He's the BOSS?
by Harvest Dragon
Summary: Malik Ishtar. A junior workaholic with a knack for poverty, his single desire is to someday hold the power of an executive in his hands. And when golden opportunity comes knocking at his door, he certainly didn't expect the devil. Who, apparently, wears black boots. AU.
1. Domino Effect

**He's the BOSS?**

Chapter One

**Domino Effect**

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_AN: Hello, Yu-Gi-Oh writers and readers...I got this idea out of the blue, went 'heck yes' and ran it through my head until I could get onto my computer, he he. Anyways, this'll be my first fanfiction for this genre, and I hope it does these great characters justice! And with that, I present to you a fan-made AU Yu-Gi-Oh! _

* * *

"Malik...it's time for dinner."

A tall woman, who had lovely mocha skin flavored by a harsh sun's constant rays and a full head of shoulder-length raven black hair, stood outside an old and faded blue door. She knocked on the door gently, and waited for a moment before pressing her ear against it. She was clothed in a plain white straight-cut dress that flared at the bottom, coupled with golden flats made of a rough and coarse material. Around her slim neck she wore a gold necklace accented by the beautiful sun-like drop hanging from it, radiating brilliant hues of red, orange and yellow onto the door and time-chipped walls.

There was no reply, aside from the sound of someone frantically scribbling on paper, and the woman chewed the inside of her cheek as a rather contemplative look flashed across her face. With a not-so-silent sigh, she knocked on the door with more force this time, the barrier giving a little rattle. "Malik, you don't want your food to get cold, do you?"

"I'm studying. I'm not hungry," came the slightly muted reply, and the woman's dark blue eyes closed as she smiled gently at this rather rude answer. Suddenly she started banging on the door so hard the rusty nails in the hinges began to unscrew.

"_Get out of that room now, before I bust open this door,_" she said uncompromisingly, her voice deadly calm as she bashed her fist repeatedly against the old wood. A long and haggard sigh came from inside the room, and the sound of a chair scraping back made the woman cease her assault. Albeit creakily, the abused door opened up wide a few moments later.

Leaning in the doorway, with his arms crossed and a book in one hand, was a tall boy in his late teens, with skin the same gorgeous brown tone as hers. He had strange, washed-out blond hair and even stranger purple eyes that were currently flat with annoyance. He wore gold wrist bracelets on each of his wrists with Egyptian hieroglyphics engraved into them and had a plain black shirt on as well, with carpenter jeans and golden pyramid earrings. He was barefooted, and his sour face suggested he had been interrupted at an inconvenient time.

"Yes, o Isis the goddess?" Malik said with sarcastic humilty, showing exactly how he really felt with a roll of his eyes. "What can your lowly servant Malik, who was studying business basics _oh_ so sinfully, do to serve you?"

"It's Ishizu," she corrected him coolly as he absentmindedly played with the tattered forest green carpet underneath his feet with his toes, "and if you're so obliging now, I want you to come eat your food. As I _said_ before."

"Not hungry, sis, as I _said_ before," he retorted, mocking her rudely. Ishizu looked at him for a long moment with dark and entirely impassive eyes, before snatching away his book with the speed of a cobra. "Wh...hey!" He protested angrily as she held it out of his reach.

"Are you hungry now?" She asked, her voice still infuriatingly calm and reasonable. Malik glared at her in a sulky manner, before stuffing his hands into his pocketsnwith an air of defeat. Satisfied with this small victory, Ishizu led Malik down the insanely narrow hallway, lined with a hideously green and battered carpet, where the once white walls had turned a pale yellow, with gray streaks of dust dappled generously in various places. She opened the last door on her left slowly, revealing the most wretched kitchen and dining room humanity had ever created as she went inside.

The one light source was from a flickering light bulb that looked like it could have belonged to Thomas Edison, hanging by a thin wire in the center of the room, and the kitchen was so cramped that it could pass as a large closet with half-functional appliances. The walls in here were an gross orange that to Malik resembled very colorful puke, and the gray tiles, once white, were badly chipped or even gone completely. In the dining room section of the small space there was no table, but instead there were three quite unreliable-looking wooden chairs. At the sight of this extremely unpleasnt eyesore Malik sighed with a frown tugging at his lips.

_Disgusting._

Ishizu casually handed him a plate of rice mixed with lentils, chicken peas and macaroni, topped with chunky tomato sauce and fried onions. Malik inhaled the aromatic smell it gave off and licked his lips despite himself.

"Kushari tonight. Your favorite," Ishizu said with a small but sincere smile, passing him a fork, before her mouth went back to being a straight line of expressionless indifference. "Dig in."

Malik moved to sit on one of the rickety chairs, flinching as it creaked warningly, and once he placed the food on his lap he began to devour his dinner with rampant hunger. As Ishizu watched him eat, her arms crossed, he turned to her with a mouthful of kushari.

"Hey, why don't you eat something, Isis?" Malik asked, swallowing the food in his mouth with a gulp. Ishizu looked away from his inquiring eyes with a sigh of thoughtfulness, propping up her chin with her hand.

"I ate already," the elegant woman replied, staring at the peeling orange paint with a sort of solemness about her. Malik snorted, and Ishizu snapped her head around to look at him as he chortled.

"You're worried about Odion, aren't you?" Malik asked bluntly, his lip curling in a teasing sneer as he stuffed more kushari into his mouth. Ishizu's ever-serious face expressed a mild sort of shock for a moment before she pulled herself together again into her serious facade.

"Why should I be worried about Rishid? He's a grown man." She looked at him to peg him with a motherly scowl. "Which is more than I can say for _you_, Malik Ishtar."

Malik bristled at this comment. "I'm seventeen, Isis. You're only four years older than me, so don't treat me like a _child_." He snarled bad-temperately at her.

"You may be seventeen _physically_, but you're still as temperamental as you've always been," Ishizu replied offhandedly. "I doubt that'll ever change though. At least you're incredible book-smart to make up for such a short-coming." She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "But you're too serious about studying, so that's another flaw..."

"Is this what you think of your little brother...?" Malik muttered with a sigh as she continued to rabble on about his various faults. He ate in complete silence for a while before Ishizu sighed wearily, and turned to leave the room abruptly.

"I have to go run some errands, Malik. I'll be back in a bit," she said reassuringly, her dark eyes ever-unreadable. "Don't burn this shack down while I'm gone." And with that she was gone, the front door opening with a creak and closing with a rattle.

At her departure, the boy scarfed down the last of his kushari before standing to his feet in a hurry. He dumped his dirty plate in the tiny excuse of a sink before grabbing a pair of worn black sneakers, attempting to shove his left shoe onto his foot as he hopped towards the door. As he got the other shoe on, he yanked open the door and was greeted by a breath of spring air that caressed his smooth skin with a gentleness that instantly soothed him. As he soaked in the feeling of fleeting contentedness, the sun shone gently onto his form, halfway done the slope of the sky.

With a slight smile, the boy hurried down the rickety steps that led to his dump of a home and turned left, heading towards the several towering skyscrapers and clusters of elegant buildings known as Domino City. He broodingly admired the suits and exquisite clothing the various passerby men and women sported, along with all sorts of fancy jewelry that sparkled with a glow that would tempt any thief. As he crossed the busy streets and avoided oncoming traffic, he couldn't help but think ruefully to himself.

_They don't know how lucky they are..._ he thought, looking at his plain and worn clothing with a wistful sigh. _He_ had been raised in absolute poverty, surviving with his siblings in the unforgiving deserts of Egypt, until they could finally escape to the world-renown business city of Domino on nearly non-existant funds. Malik had always dreamed of becoming a business elite that could support his family since he was young, and had always had the mindset that perhaps, with a lot of effort, his dream would become his reality.

"Today's my day," he said with confidence as he pushed past a crowd of rushing people, and was faced with the biggest building in the entirity of the huge city. He craned his neck to see that sign he had longed to finally glimpse gloriously up close and personal.

_KNK CORP._

The massive structure had lovely green and blue safety glass that glimmered softly with the ebbing light of the afternoon sun. The polished steel was flawless to the most critical eye, and even the sidewalk surrounding the majestic place seemed to be revered by the passing civilians. Malik let the company's name drop from his lips, his eyes bright with barely contained excitement and eagerness as he took out a rumpled page from within his pocket, and unfolded it to read the hope-filled flyer once more.

_Help Wanted at KNK CORP. Requirements are outstanding marks, good recommendations and a willingness to work. Do not come in late or unkempt. You will be expected to be on time, all the time, and you will also be expected to be hospitable to all._

_Interviews taking place for a week KNK. See the front office for more details.  
_

"This is my chance," Malik said with a smile of anticipation, and began his walk towards the enormous green glass double doors with a awe-hushed air about him. Posh-looking people glanced at him, some with fleeting curiosity and others with snobbish disdain. He ignored all of them and with an awe-filled trembling afflicting his body, he reached for the silver handle polished to perfection by careful and cautious hands. With the release of a breath he didn't realize he was holding, he entered into KNK with a confidence that was untouched by the wealth surrounding him.

The first floor was aglow with pale green fluorescent lighting that cast strange yet lovely patterns across the shiny white tiles that lined the entire ground. People hustled about the place with intense expressions that held no time for idle chit-chat. Malik admired the white granite and stainless steel desk that a stoic woman sat behind, her sour and wrinkled face suggesting she'd rather be elsewhere as she fiddled with her black and blue uniform that had a KNK emblem on the breast pocket. As the Egyptian approached her, pushing his way through the crowds of various people, she looked up and openly grimaced as she locked eyes with him.

"Welcome to KNK CORP. How may I assist you this afternoon?" she asked with a practiced faux smile. Malik smiled insincerely back at the wrinkled sour grape of a woman, his eyelids lowered a tad as he spoke.

"I came to be interviewed," he answered her politely, all his years of being an underling to various people polishing his practically impeccable manners. She raised a gray brow and looked him over head to toe with disdain.

"You want an interview,' she repeated disbelievingly, and Malik nodded curtly, not showing any signs of offense.

"Yes. Is there a problem?" he asked her, his smile never failing, and she shook her head as if to help herself fall back into professionalism, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"No, not at all sir. If I may ask, what is your name?" she said, looking a bit embarrassed at her display of rather open discrimanation. Malik smiled even wider, and bowed respectfully at the waist.

"Malik Ishtar at your service," he replied, his polished manners shining like a beacon. The woman cleared her throat once more, obviously uncomfortable with his impossible politeness, and pointed down a hallway to the right of her desk with a large gray elevator at the end of it.

"Take the elevator to the fourtieth floor, if you may. Then go to the front desk, and they'll be happy to assist you. I'll call them now and let them know you're coming up, Mr. Ishtar."

She picked up a black cord phone and pressed a button, holding it to her ear, and Malik wisely took this as a dismissal. With growing anticiapation, the Egyptian walked over to the huge elevator, which was conviently open already, and squeezed himself in between a stick-thin man with a briefcase and a lady a bit (to put it politely) on the plump side.

He looked about the fancy steel and glass elevator, from the clean white walls to the green glass floor._ This elevator's larger than our kitchen_, Malik thought with a longing sigh. _Our place probably isn't even comparable with a trash bin here..._

"What floor," came a man's low grunt, and Malik blinked.

"Fourtieth," he managed to gasp out as the plump lady backed him against the back wall with her girth. "If you please." He got a few surprised stares, and there came a beep as the man obliged to Malik's request.

The doors closed, and Malik nearly gasped as the elevator skyrocketed up at an insane speed before stopping. A few people filed out, but the large woman obstinately opted to stay right where she was. Malik felt his head spinning as the doors closed and the elevator shot up again, and he felt his kushari swimming dangerously high inside his stomach. As the woman finally moved after five more floor stops, Malik saw that his floor was still a couple of stops away and held his stomach discreetly, trying to ignore the urge to not-so-dry-heave.

Finally, the elevator opened onto the fourtieth floor, and Malik stumbled out gratefully, his dark face tinted an unhealthy green. "Thank Ra...it's over..." he exhaled, standing still for a moment so he could regain relative peace in his innards. "I...thought I was going to die..."

He stood up straight after a bit to look around. The floors were even shinier than the tiles on the ground floor, and Malik couldn't look at the floor for too long for fear of going blind from the brilliant polishing. The trendy lights hanging from the sky blue ceiling made the room impossibly light and airy-feeling, and Malik couldn't help admiring the utter wealth flaunted in every tile and fancy light bulb.

He approached the desk and smiled politely at the young secratary, and she smiled back cordially. She was certainly pretty, with inky black cropped hair and equally dark eyes, and she stared up into his eyes with a warm expression on her peachy face. She wore the same uniform as the sour woman, although this young lady pulled it off considerably better than the bitter discrimatorial grape from earlier.

"Would you be Malik Ishtar, here for an interview?" She asked him, and he nodded, noticing a very fancy black and blue earpiece in her left ear. Suddenly her smile split into a wide smirk, and Malik blanched as she laughed out loud in a rather unpleasant manner before stopping suddenly to look him dead in the eyes.

"You sure you want to try out for this job?" She demanded, and he blinked, a bit miffed by her question.

"But of course," he replied, and she shook her head as she chortled with no humour.

"Ha. I just hope you know what you're signing up for." Were her only words for him as she pressed on her earpiece, and it made a hollow beep. "Tell the boss I'm sending another one up."

_"Really? That's number fifteen...I wonder how long it'll take for this one to bolt," _came the steely reply, and Malik stared in disbelief as the woman clicked her earpiece off and smiled at him like she had been discussing the poetic beauty of a blue dolphin.

"Well, I'll show you to his office." The woman got up and gestured for him to follow. Malik obliged with growing unease as they walked down a considerably quieter hallway.

_Is all of the drama just a test to see if I'll buckle? h_e wondered, and grimaced at the thought. _Well, I've seen things worse than whoever they're taking me to,_ he said, shrugging it off and standing tall. The raven-haired lady looked over her shoulder at him with that practiced smile of hers.

"Well, Mr. Ishtar, you seem quite confident." She stated as they approached the end of the hallway, a massive black door in front of them with a golden name plate. "Let's see how far _that _takes you."

Malik shot her a questioning look as she patted his shoulder with something akin to sympathy, and knocked on the intimidanting door with a swift rapping motion. The shifting of someone in the room was the only response as the lady called to the mystery man.

"I have a young man here who's interested in having one of those _job openings_," she said, her voice extremely respectful, and a voice as cold and controlled as Malik had ever heard replied with an unnatural iciness in their voice.

"Bring him in."

Suddenly Malik felt as if he was running full-speed towards the gates of Hades, and he glanced at the woman who offered him a blithe smile that translated into 'nice knowing you kiddo, have fun in the _pits_.' With an unnatural swiftness, she opened the door and shoved him in without an ounce of remorse before slamming the door shut, leaving Malik on the wrong side of the river. He recovered from the sudden push and straightened his posture, dusting himself off and suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.

_I never dreamed I'd meet one of the heads of KNK CORP so soon, _he thought, as he looked about the room with awe.

The first thing he noticed was the mega window in the center of the opposite wall that let the sun's light into the room quite pleasantly, slightly shaded by velvety blue drapes. The floor was pure white carpet, with the entrance to the room being light blue tile, and there was not the slightest stain on the ground to Malik's delight. There were bookshelves filed with expensive looking trinkets and various books, and in the dead center of the room was a magnificent desk made of black marble and mahogany wood. Behind this great desk was a black leather chair that currently had its back towards Malik, and the he could make out golden lettering on the back that read-

"Seto Kaiba, at your service," came that icy voice, and Malik straightened up as the chair swiveled around to reveal a surprisingly young and handsome man, with brown hair carefully combed to perfection and blue eyes that were as cold as his voice. He wore a white suit with gold trimming and a light blue tie, and his eyes instantly locked with Malik's, the intensity in the room almost sliceable.

_Holy... I'm having an interview with one of the world's most famous businessmen?_ Malik thought in disbelief. _And does he read minds or something?_

"I'm joking of course. Since you will be the one serving me in some form, if you are chosen," he deadpanned, and the Egyptian blinked at the sudden and somewhat cruel jab. "So, Ishtar. I've seen sixteen applicants today, including you. What makes you think I'll hire you and not one of them?" He asked bluntly, and Malik took a deep breath.

"I'm pliable," Malik began (with a sort of calmness Kaiba hadn't seen in most people directly thrown into the chill of his intimidating aura), "I have excellent scores in school, and every place I've worked has commended my work."

Kaiba said nothing, and something about the look in his eyes prompted Malik to continue.

"I'm currently preparing to major in business if I go to college, since I want to be at the head of a major company someday," he continued with a slight smile on his face, and looked directly into Kaiba's eyes with an icy determination the steely young man hadn't seen in many people besides himself. "So this job, if everything goes according to plan, will be the first step to my business career success."

"So why do you want to be an executive of a company?" Kaiba asked, his expression ever stoic. Malik blinked, and the blue-eyed executive noticed how his violet eyes seemed to dim and become a bit guarded. "There's obviously _something_ driving you to work under me." His blue eyes flickered to the silver laptop in front of him as it beeped and began to type something in reply with his long fingers, while Malik cleared his throat.

"I'll just say that I'm sick of being walked over," he replied, and Kaiba noted the edge of solemness in Malik's voice, mingled with a tinge of darkness. "It's time for the roles to swap."

"...I see." Kaiba looked back up at him, and Malik could swear he saw the ghost of a smile on Kaiba's lips before it faded and his face was once again stoic as ever. "Well, Ishtar, I've come to the conculsion that you're rather interesting, Ishtar. However, I have to consider all the other one-hundred and fifty seven applicants I've met with so far. If you're accepted, you'll recieve a call."

"Well, here's my number then," Malik began to rummage in his pockets for a paper and pen, but Kaiba held up a hand as he shook his head. The Egyptian looked at him with a slightly confused expression as the blue-eyed man folded his hands and propped them under his chin.

"No need. It won't be difficult contacting you if it's necessary." The executive's lips tugged up into a proud half-smirk for a moment. "Information digging is a businessman's playtime."

Malik blanched, rather unnerved by Kaiba's statement. "Just how much do you know about me?" He asked, his eyes projecting his slight unease. Kaiba shrugged nonchalantly.

"The basics. Your name, where you attend school, your GPA, your behavior records and your race." He replied with a casual air about him. "Nothing too personal." The executive watched as Malik's eyes once again become neutral and gained a slightly sarcastic edge to them.

"Right. Good to know." he sighed, running a hand through his white-blond locks with a sort of impatience. "So. I can leave now, correct?" He asked, the image of an angry Ishizu looming in his mind's eye. _She's going to kill me when I get home, isn't she...?_

"Yes." And with that, the executive turned back around to look out his window. Malik lingered for a couple of seconds before turning away and opening the forboding black door. He hesitated and looked over his shoulder at the cold executive with a small but polite smile.

"Have a good evening, Mr. Kaiba." And with that the door shut with a soft thud, the laptop on the counter top rattling a little bit with the viberation. Kaiba exhaled slowly as he stared up at the sky idly, his eyes emotionless and steely.

"...A good evening, huh." He muttered as he watched a pigeon circling pointlessly in the sky, its dusty gray wings vibrant in the rays of the setting sun. "Malik Ishtar..."

* * *

As Malik opened the door to the Ishtar rat-nest quietly, he slipped off his shoes as silently as possible and tucked them into a corner neatly. His mouth was pressed into a tight line of concentration as he pressed his body to the wall, and inched himself along it with the feeling of growing dread winding circles around his stomach. He slipped past the kitchen with a stealth that would make any ninja envious, and let the corners of his lips turn up as he saw his room in sight. With a grin, he opened the door and shot into his room like a bullet, closing the door shut behind him as he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Nice of you to drop by," said a voice in such a calm and reasonable manner that it was unnerving. Malik's blood froze as his desk light flickered on and weakly illuminated the room to reveal Ishizu, sitting in his plain wooden desk chair with her legs crossed. Her expressionless eyes were narrowed, her dark brows were furrowed deeply and her mouth was turned down in a slight frown.

"Since when did you start barging into my room and making yourself comfortable?" Malik asked, slightly peeved at her invasion of his privacy. She curled her lip in a manner eeriely similiar to his.

"Around the same time you decided _sneaking out_ without telling me where you were going was cool," she retorted testily, and Malik sensed that attitude would not be the way to go. He was silent as she stood to her feet with a sigh of frustration, and she clasped one of her hands in the other.

"Why didn't you just tell me you wanted to go out? I wouldn't have stopped you,most likely." She stared at him suspiciously. "Unless you're into illegal activity..." she murmured as she assessed his appearance, looking for tell-tale signs of drug-use. "Even though you're an honor-roll junior in highschool you might..."

"Of course not," Malik snapped, and shook his head as he focused his gaze onto a large stain on his wall. "That's a waste of time and money..." he trailed off awkwardly.

Ishizu fixed him with that dark stare of hers expectantly, and eventually Malik turned to glare at her, irritated.

"What do you want?" He demanded, and she put her hands on her hips as she finally blinked.

"So I take it you're not going to tell me where you went," she determined, and Malik obstinately kept his mouth clamped shut. With a long and tired sigh Ishizu shrugged, crossing her arms as she turned to leave his room. "Suit yourself." And with that the Egyptian woman was gone.

Malik let out a sigh of his own as he slumped onto his second-hand desk, his eyes lidded and swimming with exhaustion. "She's too nosy..." he muttered as his cheek pressed against the cold dark wood of the desk. "She'll find out...when the time's right..."

The next thing Malik knew, the sound of his late alarm was blaring loudly, and he jumped to his feet as he glanced at his dingy digital clock with extremely bleary eyes.

**7:40. **

It took a moment for the time to sink into Malik's tired brain.

"_Crap_," he he groaned, and yanked open the yellowing curtains shading his window. Light filtered in, revealing a twin bed in a corner with a frayed royal purple blanket thrown over it, and a large bookshelf filled with worn books. The Egyptian yanked open a door, and out of a tiny closet he yanked out a maroon shirt that read '_Egyptian and I Know It' _and a pair of black carpenter jeans. He pulled them on as he grabbed a heavy and clunky black and purple backpack, and with a grunt of effort pulled it onto his back. With another grunt, he kicked open the door to his room, flinching as it made a nasty cracking sound against the wall.

"Morning Malik," Ishizu called knowingly as she stepped out of her room, her black hair slightly touseled. "You're late." She stated simply as she blinked the bleariness from her eyes with a small yawn.

"I know that," he snapped as he hurried towards the door, and she frowned as she smoothed her slightly frazzled hair down to perfection with her hands.

"You're not going to eat?" She asked, and he looked back at her as he yanked open the door with an incredulous expression on his face.

"Breakfast is overrated, Isis," he replied cheekily, and with that door slammed shut. Ishizu let out a long and tired sigh before shuffling back towards her room. "Such a child..." she murmured as she yawned again, and closed the door to her room with a soft thump.

Meanwhile, Malik was dashing through various streets, ducking through crowds and weaving through shortcuts as he feverently tried to beat the clock. As he turned another corner, he saw the red and white school that promised forgiveness, granted if he could get into the building on time, and he allowed himself to grin truimphantly. _And I even made it with time to spare-_

Suddenly, a man landed right in front of him with a nasty crack, and Malik flinched back in shock as the man groaned in pain and spat up a large amount of blood. The afflicted man was clothed in a black leather jacket and ripped blue jeans, and his face was rudy and rounded with a messy mop of dark hair. Malik rushed foward after a moment of paralyzed shock and knelt by the man's side. His eyes were squeezed shut as he moaned, and Malik lightly shook the man's shoulder as the Egyptian tried speaking as calmly as possible.

"S-sir, is anything broken?" Malik asked urgently, and the man wheezed as he tried to speak, opening his eyes a little as he coughed violently. _Why do these things like this always happen at the most inconvient times?_

"Just...my darn pride..." was the reply from the man as he cursed and vomited out another round of blood, and Malik tried his best to not retch himself.

Right then, the air was split with one of the most evil and condescending laughs Malik had ever heard in his life. He snapped his head up and found his gaze locked with a pair of absolutely abnormal crimson eyes that seemed to harbor the burning essence of negativity itself.

"Be glad that's satisfactory for me today," the person said quite darkly as they looked down at the bleeding man, a distinctively British lilt in their low and dark velvety voice, and Malik's eyes widened as he examined this new and clearly dangerous person head to toe. "Fool."

They were rather lithe in their body frame but tall, and Malik guessed they would be at least half a head taller than him. A black and rather sinister trenchcoat cloaked their body and a black and gray fedora covered their hair for the most part. Malik noticed that their visible hair was pure white and spiky, and they wore black solider boots with silver _B's _engraved on either one of them. Their hands were in black and gray stealth gloves, and the Egyptian couldn't help but notice their unusually pale skin. They tilted their head back up to look at Malik, their surprisingly young and sharp-featured face split by a sinster smirk, and the Egyptian surpressed a slight shudder as those hateful eyes pierced through him.

"Well well...what do we have here?" The man asked with a unnervingly sharp grin, and Malik's open shock melted down into an intense glare as he moved to shield the beaten man. At this action. the trenchcoat man threw back his head to laugh again, bewildering Malik as he waved a dismissive hand at them.

"Don't worry your pretty head. I'm done with him," he said with that sharp sadistic smile, and Malik twitched visibly at this offhand insult.

"I'm not pretty." He ground out from between his teeth, and the trench coat man didn't even flinch at his openly hostility. In fact, he looked slightly amused by Malik talking back at him, and bent down to look the Egyptian straight in the eyes.

"Whatever. Don't get your bloody panties in a bunch," the man said, his eyes narrowing into snake-like slits as he grinned slyly, his sharp canines on display. "Nancy."

Malik, being an studious and curious person, had researched many cultures and different lingos of common languages, British English included, in his life time. And Malik was a hundred percent sure that what this man had just called him wasn't a compliment on his sleuth skills.

"I don't have time for you," he said testily, trying not to lose his temper at this obviously deadly stranger, and began looking around for help with swivels of his head. The trench-coat man snorted and turned his back on Malik before beginning to walk away, his boots clicking on the pavement rhythmically.

"Bloody bint."

The man stopped dead in his tracks as Malik proceeded to mentally face-palm himself. _Why didn't I just stay meek?_ He groaned, feeling like an utter fool. _Now I'm__ definitely going to be late, because this psycho's probably preparing to beat me till I scream for Queen Elizabeth the Second_...!

"Ah, so nancy has a bit of a broadened vocabulary...interesting." The man said, his voice not unlike a dark purr. "You're rather sharp-tongued despite your goody-two-shoes looks, eh?" He said as he turned back to gaze at Malik.

"My name's Malik, and I'm not a bloody nancy," the Egyptian shot back as he completely shed his manners, and the man curled his lip as he lifted a brow at the mention of his name.

"Mal~ik..." the man repeated, rolling his name on his tongue, and Malik furrowed his brow distastefully as the man turned his back on him. "I'm sure we'll met again, my rude Egyptian," he said with the chilling ring of a promise attached to his words, baring his sharp canines in a final wolfish smirk before strolling away.

"..." Malik couldn't help but gaze after the man as his sinister trenchcoat billowed behind him as he walked, the crowds quickly parting for him nervously. _That guy is dangerous. _Malik thought to himself. _He__ seems to pays attention to minute details._ _And who is he to call **me **rude? He called me an **effeminate** pansy!_

The Egyptian could almost feel the steam leaking from his ears, thoroughly ticked at the loose-mouthed white devil man, and a small, irrational part of himself wanted to run after him and paint that pale skin red. As he pushed his festering annoyance to the back of his mind, he looked down at the injured man with a sigh and began to drag him towards the school with grunts of effort, as he silently cursed the mysterious man to the high heavens.

* * *

To make a long story short, Malik ended up being quite late to class; _but_ this was excused by the fact Malik towed an unconscious and bleeding man into the school building. After a long talk with the school nurse _and _the pricipal, the Egyptian was finally relieved of his burden and was excused to report to class. As he sat down in a back desk with a melancholy expression on his face and ignored the questioning stares boring into him, he pulled out an advanced chemistry book and turned to the required page as the man's voice haunted him in his mind without mercy.

_Hello, nancy. _

_Getting your bloody panties in a bunch again?_

_I'll see you again, Egyptian..._

"You will certainly _not _see me again, bastard," Malik muttered, and the teacher turned around to look at Malik with a raised brow as she adjusted her glasses on her long and thin nose.

"Care to share your thoughts are, Mr. Ishtar?" She asked with a slightly knowing smile as she flipped her chesnut brown hair, and Malik flushed a little as the students turne to look at him with smirks and giggles.

"No," he said politely as he shooed all of his annoying British thoughts out of his head. _I don't have to get ticked off about someone I'll never meet again, _he reassured himself with a semi-forced smile as he focused his attention on the lesson, biting the end of his pencil absent-mindedly.

After a satisfying day of receiving A's, A's and more A's, Malik was content as he exited the school, his mind at rest for once as he shifted his backpack's position. "One-hundred on my trigonometry test...looks like that extra one hour and forty minutes paid off!" He said with a grin, proud of his accomplishment. "This should please the great Isis...maybe she'll let me study more then..." he muttered to himself, sounding like a straight-up workalcoholic. "Hm."

The sun was shining pleasantly on his skin as he frowned with a soft sigh. "I really hope I'll get that call," he said quietly as he kicked at a rock with unnecessary violence. "I don't know of any other opportunities for me this big."

Malik looked up into the sky as the light of the sun reflected in his lavender irises, hoping his quiet plea had been heard, and half-heartedly thinking on his meeting with one of the world's most famous people.

_At least, he thought I was interesting_, Malik thought, trying not to get his hopes up too high. After all, he had been just a dirty doormat for most of his life. Why would he, a swarthy immigrant, be picked over so many other 'upper class?'

* * *

When Malik came home a bit later, he was greeted by a towering and well-musculed man. All of his hair was pulled into a tight braid at the back of his skull, leaving the majority of his head bald. He had on a gray and blue suit that had seen better days and he was holding a large briefcase in his left hand. Perhaps his more distinguishing feature was the tatoo-like marks over his left eye of various tiny heiroglyphics, and his dark green eyes were as expressionless as Ishizu's.

At the sight of the tall, intimidating and stoic man, Malik openly grinned and hugged him rather affectionally. "Odion, you're back so early," was his greeting as the man hugged him back with a small smile on his lips. "Did you get fired?" He joked, but the look in his eyes was more serious than it should've been.

"Of course not," Odion replied, his voice a deep rumble, and patted Malik on the head with a fatherly gentleness as they both moved inside the decrepit building, Malik closing the door with a loud thump and a rattle. "What havoc did you wreck while I was gone?" The man teased him gruffly.

"Oh, nothing too serious." Ishizu appeared from within the inky shadows of the darkened house, and Malik's heart skipped a beat as he glared at his sister with evident annoyance.

"Isis, don't go creeping out of random shadows like a freakin' _spider_ all the time...!" Malik snapped in irritation as she stared at him blankly. She fiddled with the golden loop dangling from her ear somewhat playfully as she furrowed her brows together.

"I don't. You just don't pay attention," Ishizu said coolly. "And it's Ishizu, not Isis..." she corrected him with a hopeless sigh.

Malik grimaced at her before turning back to Odion with an eager grin. "So what did they have you do this time, old geezer?" He asked, and Ishizu leaned against the wall as she watched the two with contentedness.

"I'm twenty-seven. I'm not that old yet," Odion replied with a small half-smile, and crossed his arms with a hum of thoughtfulness. "I cleaned out several offices and rearranged them according to the owners' requests..." he chuckled as he sighed tiredly. "Also went to go shift crates for a while at the docks...and then I went back to office work. I'm just glad to be home for a day, with my little brother and sister..." he wobbled a bit unsteadily, and Ishizu immdiately came to his side.

"Come on, Rishid," Ishizu murmured quietly as she put an elegant hand on his back, guiding him towards the kitchen gently. "You need something to eat."

Malik watched quietly as his siblings disappeared into the kitchen, leaning against the wall with a frustrated expression on his features. _Once I achieve my goal..._ Malik thought, with an edge of bitterness ..._we won't have to live like this anymore. Odion won't have to work overtime any longer, and Isis won't be scrapping for any buck she can make..._

The Egyptian ran a hand down his face with a dry chuckle, his eyes open and steely with a fierce determination.

_If I don't get this job, I'll just have to work myself to death with them._

* * *

For the next couple of days, Malik was incredibly moody and more studious than usual, mildly alarming Ishizu and Rishid, who was taking a short break from his various jobs. He barely awknowleged any other presence besides his textbooks, and he buried his nose so deep into his papers some feared he would be sucked into them. He was approached by a couple of guys he hung out with at times, and blatantly turned down all forms of communication with them, alerting people that the Egyptian was in an extremely serious mood.

When Saturday evening came around, five days after Malik's interview with Seto Kaiba, an old-fashioned landline loudly announced its presence to the inhabitants of the Ishtar household as it rang in the kitchen, echoing down the narrow hall of the closet-like apartment.

The pale blue door to Malik's room was violently bashed open as the seventeen-year-old dashed down the hallway into the kitchen, breathing hard as he pressed the receiver into his ear with a gleam in his purple eyes. "Hello, this is Malik Ishtar," he said breathlessly, and a beep sounded in his ear.

"Congrats, Malik Ishtar, you have been accepted along with two other workers to work at KNK CORP," came a robotic woman's voice. "You will start work at four o' clock P.M on this coming Monday afternoon, and you are expected to be on time. Please report to the fourtieth floor's front desk that day. Have a wonderful evening."

As the line went dead Malik was deathly quiet for a moment, the beeps sounding dully into his ear, before he erupted into the sounds of pure bliss.

"_Yes_!" he yelled, pumping his fist in the air, his gold bangels shimmering as he sank to his knees as he kissed the filthy floor in his ectasty. "My chance...I finally get a chance...!" He said as he sat up and leaned his back against the wall, his face brighter than it had been in a long while as his eyes sparkled with glee.

He blinked as Ishizu barged in, her dark eyes widened in worry. "Malik? Are you...alright?" She asked, concerned. "Rishid's sleeping..." she added as she assessed him from head to toe, seeing nothing wrong with him.

"Sorry Isis, but I'm better than I've been in a long time," was Malik's only response as he closed his eyes peacefully. Ishizu quirked a brow, intrigued at what could have possibly made a such a sarcastic and bleak teen so excited, but let it lie as she left the kitchen. As Malik stared up at the stained and leaking white ceiling, his lips curled up in a grin.

_My dream is now in working progress._

Monday couldn't come soon enough for the eager Egyptian, his eyes gleaming as he set about his daily routine with even more vigor than usual. Ishizu noticed this and observed with a small smile, pleased with her brother's burst of sudden happiness. Malik studied his business books like his life depended on it, all too ready to nelect his meals if it wasn't for a certain sister and her rather violent ways of enforcing her rules.

Finally, the day was here, and Malik was standing in front of KNK CORP, after the seemingly longest day of school in his life. He was dressed in a collared black shirt and a purple tie, with long tan khaki trousers and slightly worn dress shoes, and he had even applied his black traditional markings under his eyes. With a smile he walked into KNK CORP, enjoying the stares of curiousity he got from several workers, and headed over with slight dread to the elevator. As he pressed the elevator up button and waited for the doors to open, he was nearly bowled over by an implusive-looking man with slightly poofy blond hair.

"Hey, sorry 'bout that. Hey, it ain't four yet, is it pal?" He asked Malik, who looked at his frayed gray leather watch on his left wrist.

"Nope." Malik replied, and took in the man's appearance. He had bright brown eyes and a punkish grin, and he had a rather handsome facial build. He was about Malik's height, but more stocky than the Egyptian, and he had slightly faded blue jeans on as well as a collared white shirt striped with black lines. His blue tie was rather lose around his neck, and his dress shoes were a little less worn than Malik's. "Are...you...?"

"One of the interview-ee people? I guess so!" The man grinned, and ruffled Malik's hair playfully with a rough hand. "The name's Joey Wheeler, mate! Pleased to met 'cha!"

"...M-Malik Ishtar," the Egyptian muttered as he smoothed down his hair again, mildly annoyed by Joey's erratic and disjointed behavioral pattern. "Nice to meet you, too."

The elevator opened just then, completely empty, and Malik and Joey entered into it as the doors slammed shut. Joey pressed the fourtieth floor's button and leaned against a side of the elevator as he crossed his arms. "Well, what brings you here? Ya desperate? Need quick cash?"

"No. I'm here so I can work on climbing the ladder of the business world," Malik said honestly, and at this Joey had to laugh, the elevator shooting up as Malik clutched at a side of it for dear life.

"Wh-what's wrong with th-that reason?" The Egyptian gasped as the elevator stopped, and Joey grinned as he managed to stifle his chuckling.

"Sorry, but underlings like us at a company like this stay underlings," Joey said with a rueful sigh. "Trust me, I know. They needed new ones since the old underlings were fired. Or quit."

"Quit?" Malik said in disblief as they stepped out of the elevator together, both of them heading towards the front desk. "Why would they?" he demanded.

"Well, Seto Kaiba is the worldiest most serious and cold-hearted bast-." Joey started to say quite loudly, and Malik covered his mouth as a couple of employees looked at them with wide eyes.

"Keep it down...!" Malik hissed as he uncovered the blond's mouth. Joey grinned apologetically, scratching his head sheepishly before he continued.

"And...well, from what I've heard, there's another KNK executive..." he muttered, his brow furrowed. "And apparently, he's a flippin' sociopath that's strangely brilliant when it comes to business. Heck, I've heard even wakin' him up is dangerous..." Joey shuddered. "I'd take cold-cash over _that_ guy, from what I've heard about him..."

Malik bit his lip, trying to remember where he had read about the other executive of KNK CORP, but as he drew a blank he pushed the thought to to back of his mind. As Joey and Malik came up to the front desk, the dark-haired girl from Monday smiled at them both sweetly.

"Um, we're accepted interview-ees from last week..." Joey said, and the woman nodded with complete understanding.

"Congrats, you two!" She exclaimed with a smile. I have both your assigned duties here..." she pulled out a blue office folder and took two pieces of paper out. "Mr. Wheeler...you'll be working around this floor. Specifically speaking, you'll be running errands for Mr. Kaiba. You are to check in with him at this time."

Joey swallowed a curse or three, and accepted the paper with a steamed kind of graciousness. Malik looked hopefully at the woman who was openly gawking at his paper, her eyes almost bulging out of her head. "He wants an office boy...?" she muttered quietly to herself.

"What about me?" He asked, and the woman cleared her throat with unease.

"Mr. Ishtar, you'll be working on floor fifty..." The woman said as she stood up, and Joey and Malik exchanged looks as she walked over to the Egyptian's side. "..I'll escort you."

"...Check ya later then, Malik," Joey said as he grinned at Malik, who offered a small smile back, before heading off towards Kaiba's office. Malik looked at the back of the woman's head as she lead him back towards the elevator, and mustered up the words to ask her as she pressed the fiftieth floor's button.

"So, um, where are we going...?" He asked as the doors slammed shut, and the woman shook her dark head despondantly.

"Kid, you really don't want to know." She replied, plain and simple. Malik glared at her in annoyance, his eyes like purple lightning.

"Of course I don't want to know, that's why I asked," he said, sarcasm dripping from his words. The woman sighed slowly as she turned to look him right in the eyes.

"Mr. Ishtar, I'll tell you this much. The person you're about to start working for made his former office boy, a grown man mind you, quit their job while _crying_ hysterically."

The elevator shot up then, and then came to a sudden stop with a creak, the doors opening slowly. The fiftieth floor was as busy as the fourieth floor, if not busier, with people running to and fro like freshly beheaded chickens. She guided him through the mess of people and down a noticably quieter hallway, and Malik started to feel uneasy as they walked towards a inky black door with a red name plaque on it. The woman stopped a few feet in front of the door and cleared her throat nervously before clicking her earpiece and speaking loud and reverently.

"Mr. Ahmar...?" She questioned, her face and cracking voice betraying her nervousness. "Your new office boy is here..."

There was a pause before the response.

_"Well, send the bloody boy in," _they said with a dark, animalistic snarl, and the woman patted his back before retreating backwards, her eyes wide with something akin to fear.

"Good luck..." she whispered into his ear before walking away briskly, leaving Malik all alone. With a sigh he steeled himself for the supposedly terrifying person behind the door, and turned the handle until the door opened. He stepped in, and the door slammed shut quite loudly behind him. Malik's eyes took in the room, with its large window and lovely golden red drapes, as well as the red and white tiles at the entrance and blood red carpet covering the rest of the floor.

However, the Egyptian's eyes were drawn to the shadowy figure in the chair behind the red and black office desk, their black boots propped on the surface quite improperly. They shifted a little, and suddenly the hiss of a snake made Malik flinch violently; to his absolute horror, a huge cobra, that was colored a strange dusty blue, slithered out from behind the desk with a hiss and bared it's ungodly fangs at the poor Egyptian.

"Diabound. That's no way to treat my new office boy..." came a dark and velvety voice that Malik found horrifyingly familiar. "We wouldn't want him to get scared and run away like my last one, right?" The snake wound itself loosely around the person's neck with a hiss of pleasure, and Malik surpressed a shudder at the bad memories the cobra had unwittingly unearthed.

As the sun's afternoon rays shone brightly into the room, they illuminated the sharp-featured face of the man who Malik had unfortunately ran into last week. His pure white hair was impossibly spiky, with two long spikes that extended from the top of his head like bat wings. Those psychotic and hateful eyes were wilder than before, and he wore a collared dark crimson top with a slackened white tie as well as midnight blue jeans. Malik desperately rubbed at his eyes, hoping that he was high somehow and that the sadistic psycho he saw in front of him was a deranged hallucination, but as soon as he heard the man's evil laugh he knew he was in a nightmarish reality.

"Oh come now...Malik." He rolled the name of of his tongue with an amused expression. "Don't look so totured; I haven't done anything to you yet..." the man smiled cordially, showing off his deadly sharp canines, and at that moment Malik remembered the name of the other executive of KNK CORP.

"You're Bakura Ahmar..." he said slowly in realization, his eyes horrified and disgusted. "The black sheep executive of KNK..."

Bakura grinned widely at the Egyptian upon hearing this, his crimson eyes burning holes into his purple ones as Malik shook his head, his lips moving soundlessly. "Also known...as your new boss," he said with a bit of a hiss in his dark voice.

Malik couldn't help but gape like a fish at this white-haired demon on his throne, as his disbelieving mind came up with one sentence that summed up his situation perfectly.

_The devil wears boots, and I'm his new cabin boy._

* * *

_AN: I hope you enjoyed that...at least a little bit. So, was it bearable? What can I improve? Should I shoot myself in the foot for writing such stupidity? Ehehe..._

_By the way, if there were three genres, I guess humor would be included. And a bit of angst...(a good deal, actually)_

_Review?_

_Sayonara, HarvestDragon_


	2. Coffee Stains

Chapter Two

**Coffee Stains**

* * *

_Bakura Ahmar._

The very name was infamous in the world of business for several good (or rather, bad) reasons, and Malik was surprised he hadn't remembered him earlier.

Known for his brilliant business strategics and his highly dangerous mood swings, Mr. Ahmar was a feared legend who was still gaining fame. With his crimson eyes that burned with a universal loathing and an undeniably cruel smirk, his appearance spelled trouble for anyone opposing him. To be at the mercy of such a person would be anyone's nightmare, never mind someone as stubborn and serious as Malik.

As he stared at the executive with unblinking lavender eyes, Bakura lowered his lids a tad and he sneered sharply at the Egyptian. Diabound bared its white teeth in a menacing way as it raised its folds aggressively. Malik noted that said folds were decorated with dark yellow circles (even though that was probably unimportant at the moment.)

"What's wrong Malik?" Bakura asked in a faux-polite manner, Diabound flicking a black tongue at the frozen young man as if to echo its master. "_Snake _got your tongue?" He continued, watching the slight tremors in Malik's hands and arms increase as Malik's glazed gaze flickered to the massive cobra uneasily.

Malik started at the question and narrowed his kohl-lined eyes, both were cold with forced neutrality. "No," he snapped, irritated, but still pointedly looked away from the large reptile and clenched his hands into tight fists, attempting to suppress his involuntary shivers.

With one fluid motion Bakura stood up, and Malik saw that they were closer in height than he'd originally thought. The Egyptian watched him warily, expectant, as Bakura gazed out the window. He did so in a strangely serene manner, allowing a queer and thick aura to settle over the room. A full minute ticked by in silence, and Malik felt his annoyance beginning to simmer before Bakura finally spoke.

"First off, fetch me some coffee, nancy," he said, and Malik blinked, the off-hand insult stinging like a needle in his pride. "Well-brewed and creamy, and don't add too much bloody _sugar." _He emphasized the word as his lip curled once more in disgust. He looked over his shoulder at the Egyptian, his contempt reflected in his scornful eyes. "Think you can handle that much?"

"...Fine," Malik replied testily after a rather pregnant pause, and Bakura's crimson eyes narrowed dangerously.

With a forceful thump, a silver knife embedded itself centimeters above Malik's head, and the Egyptian's mouth dropped open a bit, and he stared at the blade with his mouth slightly agape before letting himself meet Bakura's gaze.

"...I've always dreamed of becoming a door ornament," he managed to comment dryly as he tried to absorb what had just happened, and Bakura shrugged nonchalantly. He pierced Malik with a stare that seemed deadlier than the knife right above his head, especially coupled with the trademark smirk seemingly carved onto the executive's face.

_Why did everything about this man seem to relate to sharp objects? _

"Rule number one. You will address me politely; for example, something along the lines of 'yes, Lord Bakura,' or 'no, Lord Bakura,' would do nicely," the whitette drawled, as if he hadn't just thrown a potentially fatal weapon at Malik's head. "And believe me _Malik_, I can do much better than...'almost.' So, with that in mind, let's hear that sentence again, but _better. _Right _now_."

"...Let me most _graciously _bring before you a cup of steaming hot and deliciously creamy coffee, lord _Ba-ku-ra_," Malik grinded out his name in a mocking fashion as he bowed, his wounded pride throbbing painfully as he stood up straight again. "Is that better?" He asked politely, and Bakura could see the intense hatred directed at him simmering beneath those deceivingly calm purple pools.

Bakura didn't reply, and Malik exited the office with a slam that explained the Egyptian's mood better than his words ever could. After a slight pause, the executive chuckled rather darkly as he looked over his shoulder, with a smirk on his cruel lips' edges twitching as they threatened to form another mocking smile. "Not very good at hiding your negative emotions, are you, Malik...?"

Meanwhile, Malik was looking around the floor with murder scantily concealed in his eyes, his pride bruised harshly by this forced submission.

_I have to call him __**LORD **__Bakura...? That's preposterous...! And not to mention he had the audacity to nearly kill me. Joey was right...this demon really __**is **__a sociopath, and __**I **__have to work for him? ...I don't think I could have had any __**worse **__luck. _Sour thoughts were all he had left it seemed.

The teen took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself as he realized people were giving him odd looks. He proceeded to mentally slap himself as he realized he had no idea where he could obtain Bakura's _stupid _coffee from. _Good gods... _he thought to himself bitterly while swiveling his head left to right and back again.

He swept his gaze across the various red and white cubicles, and saw a lovely blond lady leaning against one of the workspaces' walls. She looked, quite frankly, bored out of her mind. With little hesitation he approached her, and he noticed her deep purple eyes flickering over him as slight interest sparked deep inside of them. Her dressing was plain, yet sharp, with a collared white long-sleeved shirt and a pepper gray knee-high skirt. Finishing off the outfit was a pair of rather tall black heeled boots making her taller than Malik by a couple of inches.

"I've never seen you here before..." she mused curiously, twirling a lock of her curly hair with a freshly manicured finger. "Who are you?"

"Malik Ishtar, the new office boy of...Bakura Ahmar..." he introduced himself with a bow at the waist, and the woman noted the fact that Malik literally had to force Bakura's name out of his throat was glaringly obvious. "At your service."

"So you'll be that handsome devil's new slave?" she asked rhetorically, and Malik openly grimaced at her grim word choice. "I'd wish you good luck, but it's going to take more than that to survive the job you've been suckered with."

Malik decided right there on the spot that this woman was a good kind of different. She was blunt and intelligent, he could tell already, and not one to beat around the bush. Just his type of person.

"The name's Mai. Mai S. Valentine," she said as stuck out an elegant hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ishtar."

"The pleasure is all mine," was his reply. "Now, um, would you please show me where the heck I could obtain...some coffee for _his majesty?_" he asked dryly, and Mai had to smile at his less-than-willing attitude.

"Follow me, then," Mai said as she pushed off the red cubicle wall she was leaning on. "I'll show you."

Malik followed her through the busy hallways, avoiding paper-carrying carts and obviously frazzled people almost sprinting by. She turned left and opened a black door, and the Egyptian was speechless as he set his eyes upon a room bigger than his entire living space.

A plethora of coffee bags rested on a sleek and shiny black marble countertop that went across the entire room, and a huge silver coffee brewer sat in the center of the countertop. There were several dark wood cupboards and soft white lighting that bounced off of the various surfaces, creating glare, and the cream white tiles were speckled with black spots. Malik turned to Mai in disbelief, his expression awe-filled despite himself, and Mai guessed that he wasn't coming from exactly the _richest_ of families.

With a hum of thoughtfulness she walked into the room and opened the first cabinet on the left to take out a blood-red coffee cup and a sheet of paper with coffee stains on it. She held them out to Malik, who hesitantly took, not sure how to handle such a thing them with slight curiosity.

"That's Bakura's coffee cup," she explained, and Malik's mouth dipped down into a frown. "He has plenty of them in that first cabinet...and the recipe in your hand states the measurements that you need to follow in order to create the_ exact_ flavor he desires, so I advise that you stick to it."

Malik looked at the paper incredulously, and looked back up at Mai. "This guy...he must be a hardcore narcissist!" He exclaimed, and Mai couldn't help but laugh out loud at the boy's incredibles traight-forwardness. "A specified coffee recipe? Who does he think he is, the flipping _Queen _of _Britain_?"

"Er, I think you meant 'King'?" She interjected, and he curled his lip distastefully with a defiant glint in his eyes.

"I know what I said."

Mai smiled, suppressing another chuckle, and decided she would keep an eye out for this kid. He had a certain something most office boys,- and other workers, now that she thought about it - lacked, and she found his sarcastic and sharp wit a bit refreshing.

"Well, I have errands to run, so I'll see you around…sometime." And with a final wave tossed over her shoulder, she exited the room and left Malik with the coffee-stained paper gripped firmly in his hand.

The Egyptian sighed deeply and skimmed over the recipe. "First off, the brand he likes is..."

_**Starbucks Italian Roast.**_

_Well, didn't see that coming. _

Malik started in the left corner, working his way around the counter until he finally found the coffee bag, and sighed as he opened the coffee brewer top and emptied the contents of the brew into brewer. After sliding the cup underneath he found the white 'start' button and pressed it. With that down he leaned against the table, and listened to the whirring of the machine that provided the only sound in the room. Something in him stirred at the familiarity of it, and against his wishes, he found himself falling into memories that he would much rather prefer stay in whatever dark corner of his mind he had shoved them into.

_"Hey, Odion."_

_A much younger Malik, clothed in nothing but a tattered gray loincloth, sat in the blazing hot dunes of a ever-stretching desert. His bare feet were burnt pink, and he looked up at the cloudless blue sky shimmering with the heat of a true Egyptian day. "Do you think we'll ever..." he swallowed hard, his throat dry as the sand surrounding him, "Escape from here?"_

_The tall teenaged Odion behind him, similarly clothed in a threadbare gray robe, stared at Malik with his impassive green eyes, and crouched by the boy, with a solemn sympathy radiating off of him. Malik turned to Odion with a hopelessness woven into his sorrowful eyes, that shouldn't have existed in a small child so young and fragile. Regardless, he still tried to cling to the words of comfort that his brother quietly murmured._

_"If I have anything to say about it, Malik...I promise we'll leave here one day." Odion said slowly, and wrapped a thin arm around the child's bony shoulders in an attempt to reinforce the truth of his promise. The child clung now not to words but to the fabric of his brother's clothes, and fixed his gaze on the burning pale sand oozing between his numb toes. After a moment the teen spoke again, with that deep and reassuring voice finding its way into Malik's ears._

_"Let's go back home, alright? Ishizu's waiting..."_

Suddenly, the loud and obnoxious beep of the coffee maker shook the Egyptian from his less-than-pleasant memory, and as he rubbed his head agitatedly he swiped the hot coffee cup away from the maker (he was somewhat thankful to the machine for waking him from his trance). He muttered something unintelligible in Arabic as he glanced at the next step on the list.

_Buttermilk Crème(4 Tablespoons)_

_Sugar (Add only a couple of sprinkles. __**DO NOT OVERDO IT**__)_

_Whipped Topping_

"Hm. Thankfully simple," Malik grumbled and set about finding the rest of the ingredients with a rather begrudging attitude hanging over it him. "I almost _want _to overdo his 'bloody sugar...'"

* * *

To say that Bakura was unhappy would be the greatest understatement of the century.

In the span of Malik's absence he had received three important calls, two of them being total cancelations of business deals (minor, but infuriating none the less), and the third call had been a meeting postpone. He tapped his desk with his fingers irately, his scarlet eyes burning holes in his office door as he waited for Malik's return. Diabound hissed softly as he curled up by the window, the cobra's movements sluggish movements distracting Bakura for a few precious seconds.

To sum it up, the white devil was ticked, had a bad caffeine headache and was seriously craving his **bloody **_sleep._

"I'm back."

The executive blinked as the Egyptian entered into the room with a sour expression that was poorly concealed, a cup of steaming hot coffee in his hands. "Lord Bakura..." he tacked onto the end of his sentence quickly in a distasteful fashion. Bakura curled his lip impatiently as Malik set his red cup onto his desk, and snatched up the cup of joe with a response that was little more than a feral growl.

"Took you bloody long enough," he snarled, and took a sip of the coffee in a strange, almost posh manner. Malik watched his face carefully, waiting for some type of reaction from him, and the executive slammed down the cup with such abruptness that he jumped a little.

"Wha...what's wrong?" Malik couldn't help but ask as the executive lasered him with an intense stare that made the Egyptian feel just a tad bit uneasy. Just a tad, of course.

"...This has too much sugar..." Bakura replied slowly, looking back down at his coffee. "But...it's fine, for a first."

Malik blinked. He had expected a much more violent, or at least a malicious, answer, but he guessed that Bakura was just pleased to have his caffeine fix. Judging by the dark marks under the executive's eyes and the slightest of twitching in his hands, Malik would guess that Bakura was a bit…_tired_, to say the least.

Another knife embedded itself by the Egyptian's shoulder, and Malik jerked violently in surprise as Bakura laughed in an increasingly unnerving manner. The sound sent chills up and down his spine, and Malik was beginning to feel that 'fine' wasn't a good thing. His suspicions were confirmed almost immediately.

"Rule Two. 'Good' or 'great' is not enough for me. _Everything _must be _perfect_."

The Egyptian made a very important mental note right then and there.

Don't ever let your guard down around a _sociopath_, no matter how sane they might sound.

* * *

Two hours later, Malik had been pushed to his limits in terms of his pride...and had become best friends with pretended humility.

Like the apparently OCD perfectionist Bakura was, he had been sent to remake the executive's Italian Roast creamy coffee brew.

Seven. Ra. Forsaken. Times.

Then Bakura decided his designer boots need extra polishing, and ordered Malik to clean them while they were still on his feet, and the Egyptian had received quite a few sharp kicks to the face during _that_. The only thing keeping him going was the thought of having one of Bakura's silver knives embedded deep into his skull.

After he nursed the new bruises-to-be on his face for a moment, he was asked to run papers to various places, and Malik had to admit that however tedious and confusing it was to find offices, it was probably one of the best parts of his first generally awful day as an office boy to Bakura Ahmar. Not being in the same room with him had to have been a blessing from above.

The rest of the time he was there was spent on separating the astonishing amount of mail Bakura had received _just _today, but he had to admit that arranging the task was not bad at all. Even though he was on the floor the carpet was soft, and Bakura was out of the room most of the time so Malik was spared a little in that regard. Even the massive cobra had fallen asleep near the window, so Malik did his best to ignore the monster's blood-curling presence.

He still, not too irrationally, kept his eyes peeled for any stray knives.

The sound of the door opening compelled him to look up, and the pale executive looked down at him with blatant annoyance. "Go home." He snarled bad-temperedly as he stepped over the Egyptian and the sorted mail.

"Oh, is my shift over already?" Malik asked as he absentmindedly straightened the stacks of mail, secretly ecstatic as he stood to his feet.

Bakura grunted and plopped down in his office chair with a displeased expression. "Get out of my bloody office." And he turned the back of his chair to the Egyptian quite curtly.

Malik blinked at his suddenly insufferable attitude. Well, the executive definitely wasn't happy, and Malik gathered that if he didn't want one of Bakura's knives in his back, he'd better be on his merry way.

"Erm, about my schedule," Malik persisted despite his better judgment, and Bakura swiveled around in his chair so quickly that it scared the Egyptian. The executive reached out with long and pale fingers to grab Malik's tie roughly, pulling him down mercilessly to be burned full-force by his crimson and rapidly-darkening eyes. Malik's eyes met the other's with a surprisingly steely coolness, and Bakura hissed into Malik's face with a snakish-vehemence.

"You. Come. When I _call_."

With that the executive let go of him with a sudden push and swiveled around once more. With a defiant glint in his eyes Malik turned and left the office, closing the door with a none-too-gentle thump of the door.

As Malik wormed through the people in the seemingly always-crowded corridors and boarded the elevator. There was only a single, but still overwhelming, thought running through his head like a wild jackal on opium.

_I despise him I despise him I **despise** him-_

"Whoa, are those bruises?"

Malik was almost out the front doors of KNK, and started as Joey peeped his poufy blond head over his shoulder. "Oh, are you done as well, Mr. Joey?" He asked formal, subconsciously reverting into his polite speech to cover his annoyance. It was funny how he was rarely genuine in this place.

"Aw, don't be so formal," the boy grinned and ruffled Malik's hair, to which the latter protested mildly. "I had enough of that crud with Kaibastard," he added with blatant contempt, and the interesting choice of insult made Malik almost smile.

"Your fortunes must be better than mine." The Egyptian rubbed at his neck with a grimace, vaguely wondering how he would hid these from Ishizu once they fully formed. "Mr. Kaiba is _much _saner than my new boss." Joey snorted at this.

"Kaiba's a douche. Bakura's a pyscho. Take your pick," the blond quipped, and Malik chuckled humorlessly.

"I guess it sucks either way, then," he replied with a rueful smirk, and Joey slung an arm over his shoulders in a friendly manner.

"I like you," he declared, and Malik balked at this rather random statement.

"Okay then," was all he could offer, and Joey poked him in the side playfully as they started down the sidewalk into the thinning traffic.

"...Geez, man, you're thin!" Joey complained loudly, and Malik rolled his eyes as he was struck with the feeling that his newly formed friendship with this guy would be _anything_ but dull.

* * *

Joey had parted ways with him about halfway to his house, and Malik noticed the slightest drop in the boy's cheeriness but refrained from prying. As he approached the sorry excuse of an apartment that he called home and knocked, he steeled himself in anticipation of a wild storm.

He had his own problems to worry about.

The rickety door was flung open, and an enraged Ishizu stood in the midst of the doorway. Her dark eyes, usually the impassive shade that seemed to run in the family, were swirling with anger and extreme concern as she crossed her arms in a failing attempt to calm herself.

"...Malik Ishtar..." she ground out slowly, and Malik felt a chill run down his spine. Ishizu was thoroughly ticked with him, and her anger spelled nothing but trouble for his well-being in general.

"Where in the Ra-forsaken _world_ have you been?" She demanded, assessing him up and down, the look in her eyes assuring him that she wouldn't be taking any half-doped excuse for an answer.

"...out with a friend..." he said slowly, and he cringed inwardly. It was a half-truth, at least...

Instantly Ishizu's fury seemed to dampen, and the woman blinked in surprise. She had quite clearly expected something much more rebellious from him.

"You. Went out...with a friend?" She repeated, obviously baffled. Malik nodded, glad that she seemed to be buying it. Ishizu's normal cool indifference settled back into place, and she placed her hands on her hips.

"What's his name?" She asked, testing to see if he'd stumble.

"Joey Wheeler," he replied immediately, and she quirked an elegant eyebrow. "Come on, Isis, let me in already..." he complained as he impatiently crossed his arms.

The Egyptian woman seemed to be a tad embarrassed by his last comment and allowed him into the hallway, and he kicked off his dress shoes into the corner and he loosened his tie with a suppressed groan as he brushed the bruises Bakura had so courteously given him earlier. Bastard.

"...The landlord's lackey came by today," Ishizu muttered as he headed down the hall to his room, and Malik froze in his tracks.

"What? Isis, did he do anything to you?" Malik demanded, whipping around with an age-old loathing in his eyes. "Isis?" He repeated more forcefully.

"No, he didn't," she replied lowly, and the boy clenched his teeth. "He's not a bad man, you know. He just-"

"Wants his filthy money, right?" Malik spat, interrupting her. "Can't he see that we're already tin the lowest of low in terms of money, if we have to live here?"

"Mr. Kemo isn't a bad man," she said firmly. "He just came by to pick up our monthly rent. He's been very generous to us, and even lowered our payment a little by speaking to his boss. The least we can do is pay him when it's time."

"...Ra, I don't even know why you told me this," Malik seethed. "You know I hate that guy..."

"You're part of this family too," she replied calmly. "I thought you deserved to know."

Malik curled his lip, feeling defeated. He hated when she played clean like that. With a huff he turned away from her, his posture tall and uncompromising. "I'm going to my room to study. I don't want dinner tonight."

And with those parting words he entered into his room and shut the door.

* * *

School was rather slow in the morning for even Malik. The teachers' voices were like a constant and painful droning in his ears. His mind was wandering aimlessly from Odion, who had left before he got home yesterday, to Ishizu, who had left early this morning to go work some job no one else wanted to do. He felt annoyed that he couldn't work as well (Bakura aside), but forced himself to listen to the teacher currently speaking about a complex chemical formula he had memorized long ago.

After the lunch bell finally rung, Malik bypassed the bustling cafeteria to go to his favorite place in the entire school. He swiftly zigzagged down a few vacant hallways and stopped in front of a wooden door that had been polished quite recently, and with careful caution opened it to reveal a large library.

Rows upon rows of books lined the numerous shelves, and Malik inhaled the smell of musky novels and overall nerdiness with a blissful sigh of relief. This was his refuge and a lovely break from the outside world and its problems, not to mention a great place to pick up a good read or two.

As he approached the book-laden desk he immediately noticed the absence of the brunette student librarian with sparkling sea-blue eyes who would usually enthusiastically greet him in a hushed whisper. Instead, he noticed a small figure with the strangest hair he had ever seen organizing the books on the desk steadfastly. Malik reached the desk and peered over to see a short boy backing him with hair like a sunset starfish, putting heavy books away cheerily. He was humming quite vigorously to himself and seemed to be unaware of Malik's presence.

"Um." Malik said quite lamely, and the boy turned around quickly, his cheeks flushed red. He had dark mauve eyes that were a bit on the large side and strange lightning bolt bangs that were pushed to the side. He was dressed in jeans and a black tank top, and had a golden choker around his neck with a strange upside-down pyramid charm hanging from it. He was so short that Malik had to look down at him to make eye contact, and the starfish-haired boy cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Ah, welcome to the library," the boy greeted, much more confidently than Malik would have thought. "My name is Yugi Moutou, and I'd be delighted to assist you in any way I possibly can."

"Doesn't, um..." he struggled for her name "...Tea. Tea Gardener, she's the main student librarian, right? What happened to her?"

"Oh, she's gone," Yugi waved a cool and abruptly dismissing hand. "Sick, they say. Of course..." he muttered more to himself than Malik. "I'll be her substitute for now, so I'm sorry if that's unconventional for you."

The Egyptian got the vague feeling that Yugi wasn't sorry at all.

"Nope. Just curious," Malik replied eventually, and the boy beamed.

"Well, you seem like a regular. What's your name?" Yugi asked politely as he resumed sorting books.

"Malik Ishtar," the Egyptian replied and Yugi blinked.

"Ah, the straight A+ student...I should've known," he chided himself, and Malik blinked a couple of times himself.

"You know me?" He inquired curiously as the short teen leafed through a copy of _Great Expectations_ with a thoughtful glint in his eyes.

"Who doesn't? I'd be a complete recluse to not hear about you from the students and teachers alike," he replied, closing the book. "You're respected and a bit envied...not many nerds have such unique charm you know."

"Charm, huh? Whatever." Malik dismissed the info. "Do you have a good book in the mystery section that I could sample?"

Yugi grinned knowingly, his eyes twinkling brightly all of a sudden. "I have just the thing for a reader such as yourself...just a minute, if you may."

The short boy disappeared under the desk swiftly, and Malik heard Yugi mumbling to himself as the sound of shuffling books and crinkling papers persisted in the echo-prone room.

"Aha!" Yugi cried triumphantly, and popped back up with a black and gray hardback cover book gripped tightly in his hands. "Here it is! _Tales of the Woods of Nomore_. A delicious mystery thriller that I've read myself, and if you ask me...I guarantee one-hundred percent customer satisfaction."

"...I'll take your word for it then," Malik said with a smile, and Yugi grinned sheepishly. "Thanks, Mr. Moutou."

"Just Yugi's good enough for me, Malik," he said carefully, wondering if Malik would accept the familiar gesture of calling him by his first name. The Egyptian met his gaze levelly before taking the book from Yugi with a slight grin.

"Alright then, Yugi." He said, clearly accepting this gesture of friendship, and the two stood quietly in the new bond of comradeship they had formed.

* * *

"Isis, I'm home," Malik called as he entered the hallway, and unlaced his shoes as he waited for a typical Ishizu-like response.

Nothing.

"...Not back from work, eh?" He dragged himself and his heavy backpack to his room, ready to curl up with the book Yugi had recommended to him. After all, he'd finished his homework in school as usual. "Oh well...more peace for me, then."

He plopped down his backpack and rummaged around in it for the book, which he pulled out after a second or so. He collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, rubbing at his sore neck, and immediately opened the book to begin reading.

"The sorry misfortune of those that stumble upon the Woods of Nomore..."

He read for at least three hours straight, his very being devoted to the intriguing tales of this thrilling and mysterious book. He was currently halfway through it, the suspense building almost unbearably as the heroine found herself in incredible danger.

_She looked around herself, her eyes wide and questioning. How did she end up here? She didn't know...but one thing she was sure of, she wanted out of this eerie forest. With a wild and animalistic determination driving her she moved forward, only to freeze at the sound of a crazed, screeching owl. Chills raced down her body as the hiss of some large beast reached her ears, and suddenly she felt as if her limbs were made of lead. She shook her head with dread, realizing what was happening with the slowly passing seconds._

_"No! I won't let it end here!" She screamed, as the red eyes of death itself locked with her frightened gaze. The sound of the hellish beast echoed into her very soul..._

_Briiiing. Briiiing._

With an exasperated sigh Malik rose from the bed with obvious reluctance and hurried to the kitchen to pick up the phone with annoyance written all over his facial features.

"What is it?" He demanded, and then cursed under his breath. "Ah, I mean..." he was cut off by familiar laughter.

"Charmed," Bakura chuckled darkly. "Nice to hear you too, Malik."

"...How the heck do you have my number?" Malik managed to ask, his mood slowly dampening as Bakura snorted with contempt.

"It isn't hard to find such...accessible information," he said, almost in a purr. "Really, Malik, what do you take me for? An amateur?"

"An egotistical creep," he retorted sharply, abandoning his manners in favor of the truth. He heard Bakura laugh again and inwardly fumed at being taken so lightly.

"Oh, sounds like someone's on their period," Bakura said smoothly, and Malik wished that he could strangle the smug whitette through the phone.

"_As I said, _what do you want?" The Egyptian snapped once more, tapping his foot impatiently on the broken tiles. He was in no mood for this; he had a great book waiting for him in his room.

"You'll come in tomorrow, from three to six. That's not a request," he added pleasantly. Malik shook his head in avid disagreement.

"School ends at three-twenty-" he was cut off as he line went dead. "...Urgh."

He hung up as well after a few seconds and sighed in quite a melancholy manner. "He doesn't listen...what a surprise," he muttered. "Geez, there's no way I can make it in time."

Malik seemed to ponder this for a little bit more before shrugging. "I'll be coming in late, I guess. It's his own fault for not listening." And with that he headed back to his room to read the rest of his novel.

* * *

The next day Malik woke up at seven to the sound of hushed whispers outside his door, and sleepily stood to his feet with a stretch and a large yawn. "Yugi sure knows his books," the Egyptian sighed, rubbing the bleary fuzziness from his eyes. He pressed his ear to the door as he quietly smacked his chops tiredly, blinking like an old goat.

"I didn't want to wake him up, so make this quick Rishid," Ishizu murmured.

A long and deep sigh, who Malik assumed to belong to Odion, was the only response she received for a moment. "I'll be back in a few weeks. Give me the grace to say my farewells, dear sister. He's probably listening to us as we speak."

Ishizu sighed in defeat, and the door creaked open as Malik leaped back rather guilty. Odion's stoic face was brightened in the darkness with a rare smile as he quirked a brow knowingly.

"So you _were _eavesdropping." He stated truimphantly and Malik shrugged his shoulders with a pretend indifference. Silence settled over them painfully as they stared at each other unblinkingly.

"Where are you going?" Malik asked eventually, and Odion sighed tiredly.

"Somewhere a bit far away," he said truthfully. "It's an undisclosed location, Malik, so I'm as clueless as you."

The Egyptian teen was silent for a few moments before nodding. "Okay then." He replied simply. "Be safe."

"I can't quite promise that," Odion said quietly, the truth stinging them both, and the teen hugged Odion for a moment, and soaked in the feeling of being small and innocent once more. Just that tiny and pure child again, wrapped safely and snugly in his big brother's strong arms.

Malik let go of him suddenly and without another word between them Odion left the room, leaving the teen to quietly reflect on how he still was, in some ways, as helpless and hopeless as he was before. It was a moment or two before Ishizu came in herself, her arms crossed and her eyes betraying no emotion.

"Get ready for school," she said quite dispassionately, and Malik obeyed her without a single snark remark. No matter how many times they went through this, the feelings of regret and negativity never seemed to change.

Malik was ready in fifteen minutes, dressed in a royal purple sleeveless shirt with black jeans, and ignored the piece of toast Ishizu tried to offer him as he pulled on his black sneakers and hastily laced them up.

"See ya, Isis," he said, tossing an empty glance over his shoulder before exiting the building, leaving the door ajar in his wake. Ishizu sighed, shaking her head hopelessly, but let a small smile grace her lips.

"He still reacts the same way," she said, and watched his figure go down a street until she could see him no more. "I guess he still hasn't quite let go yet."

Ishizu suddenly snorted quite uncharacteristically in an almost rueful sort of way.

"Then again...neither have I."

* * *

The sandy-haired teen was quite quiet and unassuming when he entered the school, not in the mood for even the slightest bit of attention. He observed the nearly vacant hallways with no real purpose, and made his way towards his first period class with an aura that seemed to scream for the whole word around him to just keep away.

This would probably be another long and annoyingly morbid day for the Egyptian.

The entirety of the morning Malik was not called on once, nor did any student try to talk to him. He was left to his own business, which was practicing advanced algebra in an absent-minded manner, as he tried to focus his thoughts strictly in the present.

_That past is dead_, he told himself. _It doesn't exist...anymore_.

Lunch time was soon upon Domino high school, and Malik couldn't help but order a bowl of the gruel-like soup this time. He hadn't had a proper meal for a couple of days, and he was getting rather famished. As he went to sit at an empty table in a corner of the cafeteria, he eyed the dark red 'soup' with hesitation before spooning it into his mouth carefully.

"You can stomach that stuff?"

Malik nearly spewed his food over the table as he turned to see Yugi standing behind him with a brown sack lunch in his hand, a small yet unsure smile on his face. He swallowed the soup with effort and blinked with evident surprise. "Yugi?" Was all he could muster. The short teen was dressed in attire similar to his outfit yesterday, save for the fact that his sleeveless top was white today.

"Yeah. You mind if I sit?" He asked with an embarrassed grin, and Malik shrugged.

"Why would I?" He responded bluntly, and Yugi wisely interpreted that as 'sit down, I don't mind having you around.' As Yugi emptied the contents of his bag, -which had a shiny red apple, a and a tomato sandwich, and with a bottle of water -, Malik furtively opted to stare at his chunky scarlet soup. Silence hung over the two like a ghastly cloud, and Yugi glanced at Malik only to notice small, purplish bruises littering his face.

"Are you alright?" He asked impulsively, and Malik glanced at him with furrowed brows.

"Depends on what you mean," the Egyptian responded blandly, and Yugi felt his curiosity being prodded. Malik seemed to be quite the strange character, with his habits and tendencies set in stone, and Yugi felt as if he wanted to dig deeper into his behavior to see just how, and why, he ticked.

"Well, you have bruises all over your face," Yugi replied innocently as he examined his juicy-looking apple, and Malik noticeably paled.

"...How did you see them?" Malik asked, not bothering to deny Yugi's accusation. Yugi chuckled and took a bite of the sweet fruit.

"I was beaten up daily for a while, so I guess I'm a bit more perceptive of that kind of thing," the short boy said with a shrug, and Malik raised a brow as he processed this for a moment.

"Really?" He asked, pleased that the boy hadn't asked about how he had obtained his bruises, and Yugi nodded with an oddly happy smile.

"Ah, thankfully they don't do it much anymore, ever since my brother...played one of his games with them," he said, quite morbidly. "But that's another thing that I don't feel like discussing right now."

"You have a brother?" Malik, intent on returning the favor Yugi had dealt him by sticking to less private information. Yugi smiled, acknowledging this.

"Two, actually. Yep, I'm the youngest of three," he confirmed, holding up three fingers. "There's me, the junior, then Yami, who's in his first year of college, and then lastly Atem, the working adult. He takes care of both me and Yami, since we don't have anyone else to rely on. He's usually busy with work in Egypt, though. Says his partner is a real nutjob..."

"Egypt, huh?" Malik commented, partially aware he was being suckered into a conversation with him, and for once, not minding. The shorter teen smiled brightly, happy that he was getting Malik to open up, even if it was just a teeny bit.

"Yep, he bought this," he gestured to his golden choker, "in Egypt, for me. Aren't you Egyptian yourself?" He inquired.

Malik nodded as he stared at the pyramid charm for a moment and then spooned another bite of the so-called soup into his mouth. "What about Yami?" He pressed, and Yugi chuckled awkwardly.

"Well, he's really rebellious," Yugi admitted. "Atem has a hard time with controlling him. He likes to punish people whenever they do something he finds wrong, and in short he's a rather...peculiar person. But he really is a great brother and almost too gentlemanly on the inside, especially with...women." He forced out the last word. "Sometimes the wrong ones." Yugi murmured to himself with disdain.

Something in Yugi's tone intrigued Malik. It seemed that Yugi obviously had lady problems, and the Egyptian vaguely wondered if that Tea girl had anything to do with it.

"What about you? Do you have siblings?" Yugi skillfully spun the question table away from himself.

"Two of them. But I guess I had three, once upon a time," Malik replied quietly, and something about the way Malik put it told Yugi not to pursue the topic any further than he already had.

"Well then. How about that book I lent you?"

* * *

After parting with Yugi awkwardly once the lunch bell rung rather forebodingly, Malik went to his various classes as the day ticked by steadily. Finally he headed to his last period French class with his notes already in hand, and sat in the front of the class in a routine-like manner. Eventually his less enthusiastic classmates filed in, as well as a thin and tall blond woman whose very aura gave off pure French patriotism; at least, if her white, blue and red outfit wasn't enough of a tip. As she walked to the center of the room with a ruler in her hand and her nose in the air, the class went dead silent.

"Bonjour," she said curtly, and the students tiredly repeated the greeting back.

"Bonjour, Madame Anastasie," was the reply, and she nodded satisfactorily.

"Good. Today, I will be 'earing the essays you 'ave prepared for me," Madame Anastasie continued with a dreamy look in her eyes. "Let Anatasie 'ear the magnificent flow of the French language, starting with-"

A frenzied knocking at the door interrupted her, and she pursued her red lips into a frown. "Non, non, what iz it?" She demanded, her tri-colored heels clinking angrily against the floor as she flung open the door. "Ah, Prinzipal! What brings you 'ere...?"

She was cut off by the slamming of the door, and the students tittered curiously as Malik quirked a brow. What in the world would the principal need from the over-zealous French teacher?

After a few moments Madame Anatasie burst into the room in a tizzy, her dark green eyes wide with horror. "Malik! You must go!" She squawked urgently, and the Egyptian blinked in surprise as all eyes focused on him.

"What? Why?" He asked as she literally dragged him to his feet with surprisingly strong manicured hands , and craned his neck to look at her as she started shooing him out of her classroom. "Madame?"

"You 'ave en important person 'ere to pick you up, and believe me, you do not want 'im waiting!" She succeeded in finally pushing him out the door, and closed it quite roughly into his face. Malik moved back away from the door, utterly confused.

_Who in the world could pick me up?_ He wondered. _Odion's at work in some distant land by now, and Isis definitely wouldn't spoil me even if she had the time...so, who could possibly..._

At the sound of the steady tap-tap of boots, he turned around to see a tall and slender silhouetted figure heading towards him quite purposefully. Instinctively, Malik backed up a bit as he fingers brushed the door.

"Do I know you?" He asked warily, and the sudden dark laughter that echoed around them quickly confirmed that Malik did indeed know this man. "B-Ba..." he trailed off disbelievingly.

"Surprise," Bakura purred pleasantly. "Now, I'm short on time, so if you would hurry along that would be wonderful." As he stepped into the light, Malik noticed he was wearing the same black trench coat he had been wearing when Malik had first met him, coupled with polished black dress boots.

"Why are you here?" Malik demanded, his eyes narrowed. He knew that Bakura could easily find where he went to school, but to actually come in personally was something Malik never expected him to do. Bakura openly scowled at this question.

"I come in to pick you up myself, and this is the thanks I get?" He snarled lowly, and moved towards Malik. "Bloody unthankful woman, you are."

Before Malik could utter a breath of resistance, he was slung like a sack of potatoes over Bakura's left shoulder. He blinked in surprise as Bakura began to walk just like that, grunting as he shifted Malik's weight a little.

"...Put me down!" He ordered sharply as he came to his senses, his eyes lit with a fierce fighting fire. "I am a capable teen, not a small child...!"

"Stop it," Bakura growled as Malik slammed his fists into his back roughly, and the Egyptian went limp with defeat, admittedly not willing to push the executive any further. Silence settled over them like a blanket, as Bakura traversed the hallways of the school, until Malik finally shrugged it off.

"So why are you picking me up?" He asked, considerably calmer. "Not literally," he added dryly, and Bakura curled his lips at his quip.

"Because I felt like it." He answered blandly, and Malik frowned.

"That's not a satisfactory answer," he said, irked at the executive's response.

"Too bad. Shut up."

As Bakura kicked open the doors to the school roguishly, Malik crossed his arms in a moody manner. "Can I get down now-"

His wish was rudely granted as Bakura dropped him onto the ground, Malik's chin smacking the rough concrete floor with brutal force. He forced back his smarting tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he cradled his jaw in his hands. "Ra, you son of a-"

"Ah ah. Rule One." Bakura said with a grin, and Malik seriously contemplated the odds of him getting away with the homicide of an important business figure. And to be honest, the prospects of success were very slim.

Malik stood to his feet, wincing as his jaw moved, and proceeded to gape at the fancy white and black KNK limo shining gloriously in the afternoon sun. "Why in Osiris's name would you pick me up in this conspicuous showboat?" He snapped, his mouth throbbing. "If anyone sees me get in this thing..."

"Quit PMSing and get in the bloody limo," Bakura interrupted him, and with an icy glare Malik opened the door himself and climbed into a black leather seat, buckling himself in. The executive clambered in after him and shut the door, and Malik turned to face the heavily tinted window as Bakura gave out orders for the driver. And as the limo began to move forward, the Egyptian looked around himself, doing as he did his best to ignore the presence beside him.

They were in a closed off part of the luxury car, with mini white chandeliers and a wine cart filled with quite exquisite flavors and rare brands. He noted the large pile of notes stacked in a corner and a laptop tucked away by the executive's side. In fact, the said executive was currently on his cellphone taking a call.

"What do you mean, Kaiba?" He asked lowly, and Malik raised a brow curiously. If the executives were conversing personally the topic _had_ to be important, and the Egyptian wasn't gonna let a chance for free info pass him by.

Kaiba muttered something on the other end, and Malik strained his ears to hear him properly.

"He's not there, they say? He had to be there, where else could he bloody be?" Bakura hissed, his face contorting with frightening anger. "He isn't allowed to leave until tomorrow, they said...!"

There was the sound of more calm speaking, and Bakura's eyes were flashing dangerously now. "How do they lose an entire patient who happens to still be ill? Bloody idiots...!"

Malik was listening to this exchange curiously, keeping as he kept an eye on the furious and increasingly unstable whittete, and suddenly remembered that he had left his backpack in his locker. With a sigh of frustration he opened his mouth to speak, only to spot the murder in Bakura's red eyes.

"Okay then. Kaiba, they better find him, or I'll search this whole bloody city by my bleeding _self_." And with that he snapped his cellphone shut so sharply that its shell cracked a bit. Malik turned back towards the window, his question dying on his tongue.

The limo screeched to a halt after a minute or so, and Bakura opened the door and nearly crushed Malik's arm in his unnecessarily tight grip as he dragged him out of the car. The Egyptian tried to subtly twist out of the executive's merciless hold, but failed spectacularly as Bakura tightened his grip even more as he pulled Malik around and behind the KNK CORP building. They stopped in front of a black door with a security keypad to the right of it, and Bakura tapped in a code swiftly and the door swung open with a positive beep.

"Secret entrance...?" Malik asked, and Bakura sent him a chilling glare that actually managed to get the usually snarky teen to snap his mouth shut. The Egyptian decided to keep his questions to himself for now, since the executive currently looked ready to make a bloody meal of fish and chips out of anyone who took a single out-of-place breath.

They entered intoa dark hallway, with Bakura leading the way, and the dead end they reached had a lovely pure glass elevator with glass doors. Malik fidgeted nervously, not liking where this was going. Bakura continued anyway, glancing at the two floor buttons contemplatively before pressing the second one. The doors opened with a hiss, and Malik boarded the elevator before he could change his mind, with Bakura close behind him. As the doors slammed shut Malik automatically braced himself for the wild ride up, and his foresight was apparently correct as they soared up the tower with sound-breaking speed. The Egyptian watched the gray walls through the glass, feeling as if his stomach would pop out of his mouth at any moment.

"Gah..." Malik gasped as the elevator halted to a stop, and Bakura nonchalantly stepped off as the doors opened with a thunk with a nauseous teen stumbling after him. Malik looked around to see that they were in a corner on the fiftieth floor, and he shook his head disbelievingly.

_Personal elevators...Ra, what money can do_, he thought rather bitterly as he followed the moody executive to his office, bypassing the busy workers who were subtly avoiding eye-contact. Mai spotted them as they passed by each other, and winked at the teen before walking away.

Bakura tore open the door to his office, and Malik wisely opted to bleed into the background, happy that the monster cobra seemed to be absent today. Bakura curled his lip irately as he sat in his office chair, and eyed his office phone expectantly as he tapped the desk with his minutes ticked by in quiet, Malik quite intelligently sensing the mood and refraining from speaking, until the silence was split by an annoying ringtone. The Egyptian observed quietly as whittete picked up his ringing cellphone with a sort of impatient eagerness before holding it to his ear.

"Hello." Bakura deadpanned, and there was chattering on the other end for a few seconds. "Stop beating around the bloody bush, have you found him yet or not?" He snarled dangerously.

There was a pause, and Malik didn't need to hear the person's reply to know the answer to the executive's question.

Bakura slammed his cellphone down with such force that the crack spread all the way around the shell. "I'll _kill_ them," he hissed vehemently, and nearly knocked the door down as he went out violently with a swish of his dark trench coat. Malik heard protests and cries as he darted to the door, only to see Bakura snarling like an untamed lion as the way was cleared for him.

"This patient guy must be pretty important to him...I wonder who he is?" Malik voiced his question aloud, glad that he had mostly avoided the angry man's thunder path and baffled how such a demon could get upset over the loss of another human being. "Good gods, I feel kind of sorry for the guys who lost this person..."

He sighed, supposing he would wait for the executive's return for a little while, and decided, quite daringly, to sit in Bakura's chair. After all, if his plan succeeded, he'd be sitting in a chair more luxurious than his wildest dreams. With a sigh of contentment he plopped down into the still-warm seat and closed his eyes, relaxing quite comfortably.

Twenty minutes later, he was still waiting, tapping his fingers against the desk impatiently. "I'm guessing that I should find some other work then," he muttered to himself and stood to his feet determinedly. Malik made his way to the door and flung it open, only to stumble back as he met a shadow nose to nose. "Whoa...!"

"Ack!" The figure stumbled back as well, their gray fedora flying off, and Malik raised a brow as he noticed the white spiky hair. "Bakura...?" He questioned as the person coughed rather violently into their black gloves. "What's with the detective outfit?" He added, eying the brown checkered overcoat and the black bandanna tied over their nose and mouth.

"Who are you?" 'Bakura' asked politely with a decidedly British lilt, and Malik's eyes widened at his impossibly pleasant tone. "I don't think I've seen you around here, but then again," he paused to cough harshly once more, "I've been out of work for a bit, so please pardon my fuzzy memory..."

"Malik Ishtar, Bakura Ahmar's new office boy." Malik introduced himself with a habituary bow. "You aren't him, are you...?" He asked in confirmation, furrowing his brows as he looked the stranger up and down.

The person looked up at him with dark chocolate eyes. "No, I'm afraid I'm not. Where did he go, do you know?" He asked, looking anticipative of a not-so-nice answer.

"He went out a little bit ago searching for an 'escapee patient,'" Malik told the Bakura look-alike. "Who are you, exactly?" He inquired curiously.

The person blinked, and then started, quickly pulling off the brown bandanna to reveal features that were eerily similar to Bakura's -except somehow softer- , and he smiled in an embarrassed manner as Malik openly gawked at him.

"Pardon my rudeness." He said with another bad cough wracking his frame. "My name is Ryo Ahmar, Bakura's twin brother. A.k.a," he added with a slightly naughty smile, "the escapee patient."

* * *

_AN: Man, typing so much up on an iPod is tough...;-;_

_I hope you enjoyed this...there are parts I hated and parts I loved, so please give me your opinion! I am a critic lover so flamers are ignored and criticism is embraced. I promise I'll apply your opinion –somehow – in order to improve my writing..._

_Malik is such a charming and sarcastic OCD nerd. Wonder why he doesn't get along with Mr. Kura...and don't you wonder who that last interviewee is? Hee hee._

_My awesome beta is SoulMistress12, so a big, BIG thanks to her for improving this. Seriously, you're** awesome** :3_

_Please, feel free to criticize, and hopefully I won't update too slow...bear with me, life is busy...so don't hate on me for sparse updates, if anyone is actually gonna follow this story..._

_Review?_

_Sayonara, HarvestDragon_


	3. Double Vision

Chapter Three

**Double Vision**

* * *

The Egyptian had to be hardcore tripping.

He couldn't seem to rip his eyes away from Baku- er, Ryou's face, as its similarity to the executive's own features was quite disturbing. Then again, Ryou was apparently his _twin brother._

"Erm, a pleasure," Malik finally managed to say, and Ryou raised a white brow curiously.

"Is there something the matter with my face?" He inquired pleasantly. "I am still a bit pale, I suppose. I've been rather ill recently..." He trailed off into rather incoherent muttering.

Malik got the distinct feeling that Ryou would be pale even if he was one-hundred percent _healthy_.

"No. I apologize for staring," the Egyptian said, clearing his throat quite awkwardly, and Ryou smiled in a such a friendly way that Malik found it increasingly hard to believe that this polite creature was related to Bakura in any way, shape or form.

"It's quite alright," Ryou fell into a violent coughing fit for a moment, "Malik. I get mistaken for my brother quite often."

"How did you even get in here?" Malik asked curiously as the sick look-alike went to sit in Bakura's chair, trying to hold back his hacks. "Bakura sounds like he was bent on tearing this city from top to bottom to find you..."

"Really? He shouldn't worry so much about me," Ryou replied in a hoarse whisper, his chest heaving as he wheezed out air. Malik looked at him with a cocked eyebrow, from his illness-flushed cheeks to his obvious struggle for oxygen, and determined that he was quite worried about Ryou himself.

"I just escaped when the doctors looked the other way," he continued. "Delightfully simple, it was. And then I found some articles of clothing to disguise myself, as you can see, and came here through one of the secret doors." He coughed again as Malik moved closer, unsure of how to help as Ryou's smile seemed to slip. "They said I would be discharged soon, but I can't stand that terrible place. Being confined to a sick bed for long does things to my head..."

"I'm sorry," was the lame response Malik came up with, and Ryou's smile quickly manifested itself once more.

"Ah, I'm in and out of hospitals quite frequently. I'm rather sickly," he said as if it was nothing important. "I'm just glad to be out...for now."

There was a interval of thick and unsteady silence before Ryou spoke again, albeit a bit timidly.

"Will you call him?" He inquired hesitantly, and Malik blinked in puzzlement.

"Who? Bakura?" The Egyptian asked, and shook his head with the ludicrousness of Ryou's question. "Pft, no. I don't have his number, and I doubt he would want to speak to me right now. He's kind of ticked off at the whole world."

"Really?" Ryou's brown eyes were bright with hope, and Malik shrugged awkwardly. "You won't tell him I'm here?"

"Your secret's safe with me," he assured the whittete, and the grateful grin the Egyptian received was positively blinding in its whiteness. Malik resisted the urge to rub at his eyes as the boy began to blabber happily.

"Jolly good fellow you are!" Ryou cried in delight before coughing harshly for a minute or so. "I mean...thanks a lot, Mr. Ishtar." He corrected himself once he had enough oxygen in his tank again.

"...Malik. Malik's fine." The Egyptian said, and the pale boy blinked before nodding.

"Okay then," Ryou said pleasantly. "Whatever you say, Mr. Ish- I mean Malik."

Another blanket of snug silence settled upon them, wrapping them in its awkwardness for a few minutes.

"So." Surprisingly, Malik was the one who broke the silence first. "Since you're Bakura's twin...why are you so docile and he's...well..."

"What? Bakura's pretty gentle..." Ryou said with one-hundred percent genuinity, and Malik broke down into chuckles that quickly evolved into flow-blown laughter. "Erm...did I say something funny?" He asked, evidently confused at the Egyptian's amusement.

_Priceless, actually._

"Are we talking about the same person here?" Malik gasped after a minute, wiping away his tears, and Ryou narrowed his eyes as he prepared to go on the defense for his sibling.

"My brother, he may rather temperamental at times, but he has...relatively good intentions!" Ryou protested. "He's a good guy, although he's rather rough around the edges most of the time..." he murmured, stroking his chin.

"Yeah. Real rough," Malik muttered under his breath.

"Has he been unfriendly to you?" Ryou asked, and the Egyptian resisted rolling his eyes. It was glaringly obious that Ryou knew a _completely_ different side of the executive that Malik had most certainly not seen yet. "He does go through office boys rather quickly...I really worry about his horrible temper."

"Besides the fact he nearly speared me to his door twice-" he paused at the whittete's horrified expression, "-he's been a charmer," he drawled sarcastically as he leaned against Bakura's desk.

"Bakura..." Ryou groaned. "But you don't seem too shaken about it," he said, looking at Malik curiously.

"Call it post-trauma," the Egyptian quipped dryly. "He won't scare me away; too much is at stake for me to just quit because of mild assault."

Ryou contemplated this. "You seem tough," he commented eventually. "If I could guess based on your personality, he'll probably take a liking to you. Eventually, if not sooner."

Malik snorted disbelivingly. "Yeah. As soon as he gives his shares of the company to a random passerby."

Ryou frowned at Malik's cynical disbelief and gazed out the window thoughtfully as Malik yawned widely. "I wonder where he is right now..." he muttered aloud.

"As long as it's not here, I'm sure all will be well," the Egyptian said, and Ryou couldn't help but smile a little. Malik might not realize it, but he was just as blunt as Bakura.

* * *

Meanwhile, Seto Kaiba was dealing with, quite possibly, the most obnoxious person he'd ever hired, and he was suffering from a serious stress headache to boot. In short, he felt absolutely _peachy_.

If the desire to murder everyone within a two-hundred yard radius with his bare hands fell under the 'peachy' category, that is.

"So, whatcha want me ta do for ya now, money bags? Kiss your feet for ya?" Joey asked as he stood in front of the executive's desk, crossing his arms in a punkish manner as he raised a brow suspiciously. "And I'll tell ya straight up; I'm walkin' out on ya if it involves costumes."

"If you would shut your muzzle maybe you'd actually find out," Kaiba said, his patience dripping down the Joey drain, and the blond closed his mouth to twist his face up in a disgruntled manner. "The reason I even hired you is because I need someone capable of taking care of my brother for me."

Joey quirked both of his brows now. "And why me?" He asked bluntly. "There's plenty of other goons you could hire that'd kiss his feet for ya. _Plenty_ of 'em." He emphasized.

"That's not what he wants," the executive sighed. "He wants someone real. Someone who, in his words, 'doesn't give a crap.' And of all the people I saw that week, you were, unfortuantely, the one who _truly_ didn't 'give a crap.'"

"Well, I ain't working for my benenfit," he muttered to himself, and Kaiba looked at him contemplatively for a moment before turning his attention to under his desk, searching for his famous silver briefcase. "So, you want me to babysit the kid?" Joey continued.

"At some point."

The blond watched as Kaiba stood to his feet, metal briefcase in hand, looking like the perfect businessman clad in a black and blue suit. "Then what was that whole talk for?" He demanded as Kaiba headed for the door.

"Preperation purposes. I just wanted you to watch my office for me while I try to locate my colleague," Kaiba replied evenly, his hand on the knob. "Can you handle not giving in to your Fido tendancies for a couple of minutes?" He asked, looking back at the blond with a haughty brow raised.

"Yeah yeah cold cash," Joey snapped at him, waving him off. "Try to become less of a douche by the time you come back."

Kaiba gave him an icy glare before opening the door. "I hope I don't regret leaving a wild mutt in my office," he muttered loud enough for Joey to hear, even though Kaiba was already neck deep in worries, and closed the office door. The blond listened until he could no longer hear the executive's steps, and his expression was uncharacteristically solemn.

Well, for a moment.

Joey glanced about the sumptous office with a grin. "Screw the rules, I'm in Seto Kaiba's office." He wiggled his eyebrows as he eyed the fancy chair and desk, as well as the laptop just sitting there. "And Joey Wheela ain't lettin' this chance slip."

He immediately climbed _over_ the executive's desk and launched himself into the sacred office chair. "Bop to the top, baby," he said as he spun himself around in Kaiba's chair, and then proceeded to rummage around the papers on Kaiba's desk. "Let's see what moneybags is hidin' under all that ice."

The blond flipped through a couple of minor contracts, and then a file with red letters caught his attention.

"Mr. Seto Kaiba's: Do not open otherwise? Well, I'm in his chair." Joey thought about the possible consequences for a moment, and decided to screw them as he opened the file. "Close enough for me not to care."

Joey opened the file only to meet blank paper. "What da...?" He said as he flipped through the empty sheets, and finally cried out in triumph as he saw writing on the last paper. "Ha! The joke's on you Kaiba, and your precious dirt's about ta be undug," he said, and began to read it aloud.

"To the...irresponsible idiot reading this message..." he began, already confused. "Since you were stupid enough to believe that Seto Kaiba would actually leave accesible information within the grasp of a fool, I suggest you try being schooled...in the simple subject of 'common sense.' And while you're at it, please move your butt out of my chair and...get your filthy paws off of my desk. Insincerely," Joey paused in disgust, "Seto _Kaiba_."

With piping hot cheeks the blond slammed the file back onto the desk quite violently and stood to his feet, heading towards a nice and solitary corner in the room to ponder his guillibility and to -of course- stir up his already intense hatred of Kaiba.

"Bastard."

* * *

Malik had been forced to stay inside Bakura's office for the last thirty minutes, in order to keep Ryou's presence a secret, and had decided to use the time to try to get to know the kind whittete a bit better like the kind soul he was.

(And perhaps dig a little dirt up on the executive.)

"So, how old are you and Bakura?" Malik asked offhandedly, having taken his perch upon the absent twin's desk quite nonchalantly.

"Ah, we're twenty-one. It's strange to say so, it makes me feel sort of old," Ryou replied with an expression that spoke of early days. "Bakura's older though, despite him sharing the same age with me..." the whittete trailed off, a hint of regret in his voice as he sighed. "Although that's sort of my fault."

"What do you mean?" The Egyptian asked, his interest definitely piqued. "Why would it be your fault?"

"Ah." Contemplation flashed through his brown eyes before he smiled again. "Well, Bakura had to take care of me a lot when we were young, since I was so sickly, so he had to grow up much faster than I did," Ryou said, and Malik got the strong feeling he was only hearing a part of the truth.

"Oh." He replied, and stored this away in his mind for later inquisition. Ryou turned to him expectantly, and Malik cleared his throat. "I'm seventeen. I'm a junior in highschool, although they say I could skip to college."

Ryou blinked in surprise. "You're that smart? Why don't you?" He asked curiously, and Malik shrugged.

"Well, funds don't exactly run well in my family," he replied, and the whittete looked sympathetic. In fact, his eyes seemed to be distant again, as if remembering something from long ago, before, finally, he sighed.

"Ah."

Their conversation was brutally interrupted by the stomping of someone who sounded angry enough to rip the building asunder, and Malik's eyes widened as he realized who it was a split second after.

_Oh **Ra**._

"Who-" Ryou was cut off as the door slammed open to reveal a monster in all its murderous fury, crimson eyes burning with passionate hatred. "K-Kura-"

"_Where the bloody **hell** have you **been**?"_ The words came out as a nearly incoherent snarl, and Malik felt as if the executive's deadly aura would suffocate both him and Ryou before his actual hands did. He gave props to Ryou as the twin stared Bakura in the face calmly, as if he was gazing at a snow white kitten instead of a blood-thristy Siberian tiger.

"Here," Ryou replied cooly, and Malik stared in wonderment at this seemingly docile man. He was obviously no whimsical fruit-loop, despite his slightly feminine features. "What are you so upset about?" He asked quietly.

"What am I upset about? Are you a bloody fool? You weren't at the hospital!" Bakura hissed as he moved towards him. "You're ill! Enough to be bloody bedridden!"

"I'm not-" Ryou lapsed into aggressive hacks, clearly struggling for breath, before wheezing the rest of his sentence out, "-sick enough to be in the hospital."

"You're not even _breathing_ properly, and you say you're fine? Ryou, you're so bloody _stubborn_!" The executive grabbed his twin's wrist -much gentler than he had Malik's- and tugged him towards the door. "We're going back to that bloody hospital _now_."

"Bakura, I'm not a child! I'm fine." Ryou's voice was rising a little, his brown eyes uncompromising and narrowed in defiance. "I'm not going to that hospital room again!"

"I'll drag you all the way there, dear brother," Bakura warned him as Ryou resisted quite futily. "You're going, and that's bloody that-"

"If he doesn't want to go, then why don't you leave him be?"

Malik's voice interrupted the heated squabble momentarily, his voice strong, and he was subjected to one of the most furious expressions a human face had ever formed.

"Piss off," he hissed darkly, and the Egyptian stood his ground quite bravely in the heat of Bakura's positively murderous glare.

"He doesn't have to!" Ryou came to Malik's defense. "I'm not going to the _bloody_ hospital, and that's that!" He tugged his wrist out of his twin's slightly slackened grip, and instead of grabbing it back the executive approached Malik with a deadly intensity. Rough hands grabbed Malik's shirt and pulled him in until the Egyptian was nose to nose with Bakura, their gazes locked in a raging battle of hatred.

"Why didn't you bloody tell me he was here?" he snarled, and Malik curled his lip despite himself. Something in Bakura's tone stirred up his naturally rebellious nature.

"I wasn't aware I was obligated to," he replied daringly, and he was rewarded with an extremely brutal head-crack against the wall.

"Bakura!" Ryou's voice was much louder, obviously quite alarmed, but the executive was all but deaf to his protesting.

"You are _bloody_ obligated," he hissed at the Egyptian, his crimson eyes nothing short of hellfire. "Do you hear me?"

"R-Regretably so," Malik managed to retort, his refined manners shattered by his unbridled resentment of the whittete, and tried to fight back the swarming dots in his blurry vision by narrowing his eyes. Ryou chose to intercept at that moment with a strong pull at Bakura's arm, his gaze rather scathing as his brother turned his head to look at him.

"Let him go," he said lowly as Bakura's glare remained, "he did nothing wrong! Leave him out of this!"

The executive still looked ready to tear Malik apart, but stiffly released him, and the Egyptian bit back a groan as he landed on the ground rather hard. His vision was quite blurry, and he felt the back of his head only to find a bump that was rather large already. He heard the twins raised voices ebbing in and out of his ears like a steady drumming as he struggled to his feet, with little success.

"He has no business talking like that to me!" Bakura snarled angrily.

"But he's right! He's bloody right! I don't need to be babied!" Ryou retorted quite loudly, his naturally amiable voice now an eerie reflection of his twin's tone. "If I say I'm fine, then I'm fine!"

"You're siding with that bloody bint? Over your own flesh and blood?" Bakura sneered. "You hardly know him, and you think he's a reliable source? You most be even more _delusional_ than the doctors say you are!"

"I'm **_not_** _delusional_!" Ryou's voice was rising at an alarming rate, and Malik dully sensed that a nerve had been not only struck, but also had been quite brutally ripped apart. "I don't need to be in that awful place anymore!"

There was a dead silence as the two stood glaring at each other in an impasse, with a quite possibly brain-damaged Egyptian watching with lidded eyes, before Ryou curtly turned away from the executive and gave his attention to Malik.

"Are you quite alright?" He knelt by the teen to feel the back of his head, and frowned at the grotesque largeness of the bump. "Malik, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I'm fine," the Egyptian quickly brushed off his concern and leaned heavily on the wall to pull himself back up, and locked eyes with Bakura momentarily. He gazed expectantly at the poker-faced exectutive, vaguely wondering if he had lost his job with this latest stunt, when Bakura finally spoke, voice low, his eyes flickering with a untamable wild flame.

"Go home."

And with that, Bakura was gone, the swish of the door the only clue that he had really been there at all. Ryou and Malik were silent for a good while, and with good reason. What could one really say in such a situation?

Ryou spoke first, his voice hurried and leaking utter embarrassment and shame.

"That was rather ugly. I'm terribly sorry you had to witness such a bout," he apologized sincerely, and Malik shrugged casually as he grimaced in pain.

"Siblings fight," he replied simply, his tone reflecting that he knew that truth all too well, and chuckled dryily. "I guess, on the bright side, I still have my job."

The half-smile the whittete mustered up at this quip quickly fell as Malik moved towards the door, posture strong despite the agonizing throbbing of his head. "Ah, will you be alright-"

"M'fine." Malik mumbled through his clenched teeth, and turned to smile at him, -although it looked quite forced- but his next words seemed to ring deeper than they should have. His eyes bored into Ryou's quite intensely. "I've lived through wounds much deeper than simple flesh."

The door swung shut with a decievingly soft and gentle thump, leaving Ryou in the solemn silence of a conflict that he felt had only just began to rear its ugly head. "How unsightly of us." He murmured, and this time, his smile held no light.

* * *

Malik's head felt as if it would implode as he manuvered through the streets, his shoulders hunched in a rather submissive way that was really quite unlike him, and he thought (as well as he could admist the feeling of bombs going off inside his skull) about Bakura's quite violent reaction to the entire "Ryou" situation.

_He's quite...protective._ He noted to himself. _It's quite odd...considering his generally all-around sadisitic tendancies... _he added quite resentfully, rubbing the egg-shaped bump on the back of his head with gentle and tentative fingertips. _I never even read anywhere that he had a brother..._

The Egyptian curled his lip as he realized that there was a lot about Bakura Ahmar that he didn't know. And he was sure if he stuck around long enough, he could find out more about him. _I guess this sort of worked out in my favour...I'll be home at a reasonable time today... _Malik tried thinking positively, although it was stifled by the ache in his head.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by someone rudely shrugging past him, seemingly in a hurry, and he stumbled a bit as he saw the person, slender, and tall, with a black tank top and skin-tight grey leather pants which were tucked into laced ankle-boots. They held a pocket knife in one gray-gloved hand and had...all too-familiar _hair-_

"Yugi?" He asked in disbelief, and the black-clad boy in question whipped around to glare at him with cold ruby irises.

"Huh? Who in Ra's name are you?" The boy asked sharply, his eyes steely, and Malik blinked. This look-alike was already ticking him off a little, especially coupled with the massive headache that he was trying to fruitlessly fend off.

_Definitely **not** Yugi._

"Uh, who the heck are _you_?" Malik retorted crisply, evidently not in the mood for rudeness.

"I asked you first," the boy snapped, shifting his grip on the pocket knife ever so slightly. He pulled Malik into an alleyway so that the were out of the way of the passerby, and narrowed his eyes into slits. "How the hell do you know Yugi?" He asked quite uncomprimisingly, and the Egyptian noticed his lightinging bolt bangs that were nearly identical to Yugi's, minus the fact that they shot up instead of framing his forehead.

"And why the heck do _you_ look like him?" Malik demanded, the painful pressure inside his head building along with his increasing agitation. The red-eyed doppleganger eyed him contemplatively, the silence between nearly tangible, before skillfully flicking his pocket knife back into his pocket. He stared at Malik with a dangerously wicked grin spreading across his sharp features as his mood did a 180'.

"I'm his older brother, obviously," he mocked, eyes widening again. "You're none too bright." Here he pressed a slender finger to Malik's forehead for emphasis. "Someone would think you'd put two and two together, if you know him at all."

Malik blinked a bit confusedly, until it hit him like a Japanese bullet train.

_"Two, actually. Yep, I'm the youngest of three," he confirmed, holding up three fingers. "There's me, the junior, then Yami, who's in his first year of college, and then lastly Atem, the working adult..."_

Yugi had mentioned that he had brothers, but it hadn't truly crossed the Egyptian's slightly hazy mind until right then that this strange 'copy' of Yugi could be one of them.

Then again, he had a borderline-severe head injury to explain away his unobservant mindset.

"So I'm assuming," he broke off to wince at his throbbing headache, "that you're Yami."

"Really?" He inquired dryly, a mocking quizzical expression on his face. "What could've possibly tipped you off?"

"You obviously aren't tan enough to be Atem...who works in Egypt," Malik reasoned, and Yami curled his lip at the name.

"I wouldn't want to be mistaken for such am uptight killjoy," Yami muttered to himself, looking away from Malik to look pointlessly at the floor with a shockingly childish expression. "He's useless..."

Malik raised a brow, deciding right then and there that Yugi's brother was rather odd, and cleared his throat pointedly. "So is there a reason you dragged me into an alleyway, or do you like doing this sort of thing for kicks?"

"Eh, just making sure you weren't someone who picks on Yugi," Yami shrugged nonchalantly. "Too many people like doing that sort of thing to him. He's such a sweet kid, it just makes me _sick_ looking at those scum who mistreat him."

"So what if I was one of those guys?" Malik couldn't help but ask, and Yami's face seemed to darken considerably even in the shade of the alleyway.

"We wouldn't be talking so pleasantly."

The Egyptian stared at Yami, and couldn't help but feel a wave of compassion for the unforturnate people who had crossed his path will ill-intentions for Yugi. He obviously was extremely hyper-protective of his brother, and suddenly the pocket knife Malik had glimsped earlier seemed to hold a new weight in his mind.

"I see..." was all he could think of to say, looking uneasy, and Yami looked at him intensely.

"Are you scared now?" He asked suddenly, and Malik grimaced at the question.

"Should I be?"

Yami paused for a few long moments. "Not if you take care of Yugi." He finally replied, and reached into his pocket to pull out a black hairband. "I like people like that." He pulled his starfish hair into a ponytail, (a feat Malik would've thought to be impossible) leaving his bangs free, and nodded at Malik in a dissimissive sort of way.

"I have to go now," he stated simply, "sorry for harrassing you, erm..."

"Malik," the Egyptian supplied him with.

"Mr. Malik..." he repeated slowly. "Arabic, huh? Well, take care, I've got business to attend. You're a little too pretty, so I'd watch my back on your way home."

The boy balked at this declaration, confused on whether to be peeved or lost, and Yami slipped away into the streets like a intangible shadow. "Yugi wasn't kidding when he said eccentric..." he sighed, rubbing his hot temples.

_And wasn't he the one who pulled me into an alleyway?_

* * *

By the time Malik got home he felt incredibly light-headed, and muttering curses upon Bakura'a head in disjointed Arabic, he stumbled into the Ishtar-hole with haggard breath. Ishizu was brutally scrubbing at a foul-looking stain in the hallway with a gray cloth that had long ago been white, and she turned to look at him with disapproval.

"If you're drunk don't bother coming in," she said bluntly, and he openly grimaced at her as he clutched his head.

"I'm not idiotic enough to get wasted in your presence," he retorted, the last part of his sentence a blatant and ill-mannered tease at her. "I just have a really...bad headache..."

At this Ishizu's full attetion was perked. "You? Sick? That doesn't happen...often..." she seemed to correct herself mid-setence. "How do you feel?"

"Like crap," he ground out, those accursed black dots swarming in front of his vision as he leaned against the wall. "Ice...please..." he muttered through his teeth.

Ishizu seemed frozen for a moment, her concern plainly reflected in her usually passionless eyes, before her cool demeanor took over. Wordlessly she glided into the kitchen, and soon emerged with a block of ice wrapped in a flimsy brown paper towel. She pressed it to his head gently, and the cold shock sent slight shivers down Malik's spine.

"Your head isn't feverishly hot," she mused. "Do you have an injury?"

Malik debated on whether to lie or not, considering the fact that neither Ishizu nor Rishid knew that he was working at KNK CORP.

Under a world-famous black sheep executive, no less.

"...Yeah." He tilted his head forward and let Ishizu part his soft hair to gape at the Eighth Wonder of the world sitting proudly on his skull.

"How in Ra's _name_..."

"I fell," he lied smoothly, feeling more than a twinge of guilt at the lie. "Some people don't watch where they're going, Isis."

She seemed to buy it, as she shook her head agitatedly. "People are so thoughtless." Ishizu sighed, as she dabbed the enourmous bump with the wrapped ice block. "You could've received head-trauma, if you truly consider the horrifying size of this bump."

"That makes me feel much better, Isis..." he said sarcastically, pushing her hands and the ice away and began moving down the hallway to his room. "I'm going to go sleep. Don't bug me," he added rather reflexively as he shot her a heatless glare, and shut himself up in his safe haven with a bang.

There was a hefty silence before Ishizu shook her head again in quiet disapproval, crossing her arms as she sighed.

"Malik, I can't help but worry for you sometimes..."

Inside his room he settled onto his bed gingerly, the headache slightly soothed by the lingering icy touch of the cold block, and sighed tiredly, running a hand through his sandy locks.

"Today was terrible," he said aloud quietly, finding a strange sort of peace in admitting his thoughts audibly. "If I get brain damage, it's that bloody limey's fault..."

With nothing to keep his ever-wandering mind occupied, Malik began to think. He wove through the daily and quite stale routine he had set up for himself at school, (currently changed courtesy of Yugi) and the rough and regrettable circumstances that forced the Ishtars to live in this sewer hole that was hardly fit for a rat.

And then, although he shouldn't have, he started thinking about the distant past, underneath a blazing sun with no mercy for the weak and helpless.

_Malik felt the hot sand's crisp heat as it seeped through his hands, his purple eyes wide with rapture as his mind ran amuck with the musings of a child. He was crouched in the desert sands, clothed in a flimsy gray robe that was fairly new, and his feet were clad with simple brown sandals that looked quite ancient._

_"Malik, how many times have I told you not to play in any old dune?"_

_The boy turned to see his proud sister, who was only four years older then he but acted like it was fourscore instead. She was beautiful for such a young girl, with docile features hardened by her frosty blue eyes, and she wore a worn brown robe with a white sash tied around her small waist._

_"Aw, Isis..." Malik grimaced at her. "Let me have fun, won't you?"_

_Ishizu muttered something in Arabic under her breath, and shook her head. "There's dangerous creatures that lurk in these dunes," she said. "You might run across a scorpian, or the deadly sand viper and his rasping lunge..."_

_Malik frowned at her, looking slightly upset. "I've never seen a sand viper. I bet it's just a scary story to stop me from having a little fun, since you don't know how to yourself."_

_"Why, you..." she trailed off as her cold eyes went wide with sudden fear, and the loud rasp of a creature behind Malik made his blood freeze._

_"R-r-rasping...?" He choked out as he turned to see the vile sand snake in all of its brown glory. It's beady black eyes seemed to be filled with foul loathing for this obstacle in its path, it's pink tongue darting out as if to taste him. _

_"Malik! Get away from it!" Ishizu demanded, trying to fight off her hysteria in order to avoid provoking the beast that sat not two feet away from her little brother. "Now!"_

_The boy moved to scramble back, but the beast locked eyes with him. 'Stay still...' it seemed to say. 'What can you do against the devil of the desert?'_

_Deaf to Ishizu's screams, the thin boy was rooted to the stop as the snake rasped out its deadly lullaby, and the dripping fangs of the beast reflected in Malik's wide eyes._

_Suddenly, there was nothing...nothing but hellfire coursing through his veins...__  
_

Malik jolted back to the present, panting, gasping, with sparse and hot tears of pain rolling down his tanned cheeks. "Ra..." he breathed hoarsely, as the intense yet imaginary pain faded away slowly, "I'm still incurable, after all of this time."

He had the dismal feeling that he wouldn't be sleeping much tonight.

* * *

"I'm home."

Yugi's head popped up, his hair currently pulled back in a bandanna as he cleaned the wooden floor of the house with a rag, to see Yami enter in the door with a gruff expression on his face. The younger brother smiled gently, pleased to see his own flesh and blood home safely.

"Welcome home, Yami," he said pleasantly, although his eyes were a clouded amethyst. He was wearing a baggy gray top and black shorts that were knee-high, with gray slippers on his relatively small feet. "Are you alright?"

"Keh. Some people are aggravating me at school again," Yami said with evident dislike. "Nothing important." He muttered under his breath, but Yui still caught it.

"Really." Yugi continued to clean as the taller unlaced his boots in a quick and effiecent manner, and propped them against a pale blue wall. "It doesn't sound like nothing."

Yami opted to ignore him. "I met Mr. Malik today," he commented offhandedly, and Yugi mood seemed to perk considerably at this news.

"You met Malik? He's a cool guy, right?" Yugi asked almost excitedly, looking rather enthused at this chance meeting, before his face fell a little. "You didn't mistreat him, right? Please tell me you were good..."

"...Yeah, I was good," Yami said, just a wee bit hesitantly. "I might've scared him a little at first, though."

"I guess it can't be helped..." the younger sighed with a shake of his head, scrubbing at the floor a bit harder. Yami watched him warily, noting his strangely timid posture and the downcast eyes that seemed to have been glued to the floor.

"You were bullied again." It wasn't a question, and Yugi furitively avoided his brother's accusing eyes. "Who?"

"...No one." He said without missing a beat. "I'm fine."

"You're lying. Why?"

Yugi didn't respond, but just continued to scrub at the floor stubbornly. It seemed to be the safest thing to do, considering that looking into his brother's eyes at the moment was an impossible task.

"If I find them, Yugi, I'll-"

"No!" Yugi broke in at once, his eyes wide with horror. "No more of those horrible games, do you hear me?"

"I don't understand why you won't let me deal with them anymore," the older brother said, sounding a little peeved, "it worked for you before; those bullies left you alone, right?"

"I didn't want it to be solved like that!"

"Are you not happy, my partner? It was for your sake...!" Yami was getting a little hot under the collar now, his red eyes narrowing into slits. "They were _beating_ you _up _Yugi, and yet...you act as if I'm the criminal for freeing you!"

"...I didn't wish to be free in such a manner," Yugi answered firmly, and there was silence between the two that truly didn't belong there.

Yami looked quite angry as well as frustrated, and he breezed past Yugi into some deeper region of the house without a single word. The younger brother let out a long and tired sigh, shrugging his shoulders, and pulled up his sleeve to reveal deep nail scratches on his right arm.

"You wouldn't ever listen to the truth anyway, Yami." He muttered, and dusted the dirt off of his clothes with a few hard smacks. "Not if it hit you in the face."

The sound of a ringing landline made him flinch in surprise, and he stood up and maneuvered over to the dark oaken table on which the phone lay. He snatched it up and pressed it to his ear in one fluid motion. "Hello, Moutou residence."

"Mr. Moutou, Mr. Kaiba would like for you to work tomorrow alongside his other office boy," the lady on the other end droned. "Would you mind stopping by at about four?"

"No problem," Yugi replied, looking down the way where Yami had vanished. "I'll see Mr. Kaiba then."

"Good. Have a good day sir," was the last thing she said before she hung up the phone. Yugi let it beep in his ear for a moment before setting it down slowly.

"You too."

* * *

_I'm back from the dead. :D_

_Sorry for the wait, as usual. It'll definitely happen again, since school starts TOMORROW. So here's a present! :D_

_Anyways. I don't know what to think about this chapter...but I do know what to think about every kind soul who reads this fan novel! Thanks for the favs, follows, and most of all the reviews. It's seriously one of my fuels, since I get a little more motivated everytime I see one. It could be two words long and I'd still be happy!_

_Ahem. Thanks especially to my beta SoulMistress12, who's critiscm makes me very happy and eager to change! She's truly an awesome writer, so go check her out! And I hope I got Yami's rather eccentric and constantly-changing personality across well, phahaha!_

_I think my favorite part of this chapter was Yugi and Yami. Mostly because I know you readers have a lot to learn about their past. Actually, you have a lot to learn about everyone. Haha._

_Review?_

_Sayonara, HarvestDragon_


	4. Crossing Strings

Chapter Four

**Crossing Strings**

* * *

For many, waking up was usually at _least_ a _relatively_ pleasant thing.

Rising out of a soft white bed to the sound of cliché, sweetly chirping birds, and the tempting smell of a delicious breakfast prepared by a prudent mother's hands was a typical morning for so many that nobody ever thought twice about it.

About how _lucky_ they were.

But, unfortunately, Joey was one of the unlucky souls who knew what those non-fantasy mornings were like.

When he woke up, it was just him reentering his own personal sample of hellfire. The smell of alcohol had long since greeted his nostrils every early day with a fiery burning, and often the sound of violently smashing bottles would reach his ears as he yawned exhaustedly, devoid of true rest.

Sleep had once again eluded him, despite his noble efforts to drown out the sound of an angry drunkard parading up and down the run-down house, smashing various valuables as he lumbered about blindly nearly all night.

This drunkard also happened to be Joey's father, who truthfully boozed more than he breathed.

The blond had lived with this unstable and hateful man for several years now, after being abandoned by his wretched mother and his sweet little sister, and had learned quickly that he was, to be honest, the sole bread-winner in his house. He grimaced as he was inadvertently reminded of earlier and scrapier days, filled with dangerous street-crime gangs and thieving from anyone who looked like they could spare 'extra change.'

Fortunately, he had come to his senses before he hit rock bottom, unlike many of his fellow former gang members-although, at the moment, his life came pretty darn close to it regardless.

"_**Boy!**_"

Joey frowned at the call; the word quite slurred, but an angry and demanding command nonetheless. He didn't feel like dealing with the sour old drunk this morning, especially when said drunk had a massive hangover-induced headache from his late-night stupor.

So instead of croakily replying as per usual, he tucked himself as snugly as possible under his gray bed sheets, tarnished with suspicious light brown stains, and closed his eyes in semi-contentment.

There was a peaceful quiet as Joey gradually drifted off, his flitting dreams as painless as he had hoped they'd be.

For about ten minutes.

A fierce rapping at his stained bedroom door had Joey up and alert at once, his honey eyes narrowed and brimming with a life-long hate that didn't really seem to belong in such a simple-minded person's eyes.

"_Get out_! Make yerself useful!" Joey's father rumbled, his hammy fist banging against the fragile door. His crude tone was a reflection of his drunken thought-pattern and deeply-rooted internal spite. "And if you don't, I'll beat you like the mangy _dog_ you are!"

Joey flinched involuntarily, his hands squeezed into tight fists as he sat up and slid out of bed silently. He knew all too well what would happen next if he didn't. Slowly he approached the door, and seemingly against his own will, turned the knob so that nothing stood between him and the alcoholic monster he knew as his dad.

"Yeah, Pops?"

His voice was quiet, a thin veil over his disgust and the slightest trickle of reflexive anxiety in his tone, and as his brown eyes met bloodshot sclera (which, quite frankly, seemed to belong better in a horrific nightmare) the putrid smell of alcohol washed over him quite nauseatingly as his father breathed directly into his face.

Joey was struck quite suddenly right between the eyes with a glass bottle of half-finished beer, and he couldn't help but bend over so as to clutch at the agonizing pounding now dominating his head. Alarmingly large and sickening black spots washed over his vision as his father barked at him.

"_Get out of this house_!" he thundered darkly, "And don't come back until you've got some _cash_!" He proceeded to pelt his son across the face with a rock-hard fist, and with a grunt of pain Joey stumbled back into his room.

The blond felt a trickle of thick and hot liquid leaking from his left eye, and with his vision rapidly dwindling he ducked around his dad; his only intent being to put as much distance as possible between himself and the irrationally angry man. He trudged through the pieces of broken bottle on the dirty brown carpet, ignoring the sting of deep wounds each step inflicted, and was out the door in moments. With a pained huff he quickly slammed it shut behind him, sliding down to sit on the front doorstep.

Joey gazed as well as he could with his fuzzy vision at his clothes, from the old grey slacks to the black, hole-ridden t-shirt, and grimaced at the open slices in his bare and bleeding feet. He scratched his head with a sigh, his face strangely serene despite the intense pain in both his head and feet.

"Wonder if Tristan can spare me some clothes today." He chuckled without humor. "It won't do for cold cash to look down on me anymore than he does."

* * *

Yugi was most certain that Malik had not been blessed by sleep's sweet kiss last night.

The Egyptian looked..._dead_, in a sense, with his lilac eyes glazed over with the unfathomable horrors of a nightmarish night. Even his _breathing_ seemed to take a significant amount of concentration on his part. Presently, the shorter teen was sitting across from him with a sack lunch in hand, and Malik was looking at the empty spot in front of himself with a decidedly far-away look, the dark circles under his eyes quite prominent.

To be honest, Yugi didn't feel all too perky himself, with the undesirable reminder of he and his brother's spat lingering in his mind like an uncleansable black boil.

"Malik," he said tentatively, and said boy's eyes seemed to spark the slightest bit as they slowly met Yugi's gaze, albeit slowly, "You're not going to eat lunch?"

There was an awkward lapse of complete silence before Malik finally reacted.

"No."

Yugi could nearly taste the dark aura around the frigid word but bravely pressed onwards despite his better judgment. "Is...there something wrong?"

He felt very stupid for asking a question he most certainly knew the answer to, but did so anyways, for politeness's sake. Malik sighed deeply, sounding as if he was carrying Ra's entire burden on his back.

"I'm alive." He deadpanned; effectively shutting down Yugi's half-baked attempts to, ironically, recall him to the world of the living. Wordlessly, Yugi reached into his sack lunch to pull out a green apple, and began to nibble on it in a pitiful and lonesome manner.

It wasn't often that Malik would close in completely, but when he did, it signified that something rather unmentionably unpleasant had happened to him.

Today happened to be one of those days.

After spending the better part of the night on trying to coax himself to sleep, Malik had awoken drenched in sweat, with glass-like eyes impossibly wide in horror as he breathed raggedly. Ishizu had refrained from berating him even in the slightest this morning, the dead numbness in his face reminding her of the looming reality of their troubled past.

_No matter where I run, the past is sure to follow..._

_Connected to me by an iron string, till death do us part..._

"Malik, the bell..."

Yugi abruptly cut into his lifeless trance, and the Egyptian's eyes flickered up to stare at the shorter teen, who was standing with his crumpled paper bag in hand. "It rang." He stated lamely, admittedly unnerved by Malik's zombie-like behavior.

Without so much as a grunt, the tan boy stood up and proceeded to the exit soundlessly, devoid of the slightest trace of emotion, leaving Yugi to quietly wonder how many painful layers the Egyptian really had under tight and unyielding wraps.

* * *

"Bakura."

Ryou sat fixedly in front of a black steel door, his brown eyes tracing each and every crevice of the ominous barrier separating him from his unstable beast of a brother. He had been sitting there for at _least_ an hour, determined to speak with his twin, and had not heard even the most minuscule of sounds.

That in itself scared Ryou more than anything else.

Ever since the episode with Malik in the executive's office, Bakura had not made even the slightest effort to make any contact with his brother whatsoever. He had gone out of the house at an ungodly hour the next day, and came back to it so sporadically that it was quite impossible to plan a specific time to corner him.

Not like that was a wise option in the first place.

Curling his pale bare toes into the red carpet, he chanced a glance down the hallways, admiring the subtly flaunted wealth in the striking yet simple designs, and the tingling auratic colors of sensual reds, obsidian black and chilling azures. He sighed and coughed brutally into the sleeve of his midnight black hoodie before sighing once more.

"Are you just going to sulk in there like a wet kitten?" Ryou called, fatigue wearing his resolve thinner and thinner. He may have convinced Bakura that he was well enough to stay at home to complete his recovery, but that didn't mean he had persuaded his frail body as well.

At that last comment, a low and barely audible growl sounded through the dark door, and Ryou perked at finally prodding a reaction out of his twin. He chanced speaking again, pulling up his warm hood around his pale cheeks.

"That's childish."

The door slammed open nearly instantaneously, revealing the silently fuming black executive. Scarlet eyes burned into cool brown orbs, and Bakura's fists clenched as he ground out words that nearly dissolved into incoherent snarling.

"_What _do_ you _want_?_"

"You're well aware, Kura-"

"That's_ not _my_ name,_" came the sharp and harsh rebuke. Ryou sighed for the umpteenth time, and the stark paleness of his soft face seemed to glow eeriely against the dark color of his warm hood.

"Is this really about the Malik incident yesterday?"

Bakura's face was suddenly completely impassive, although a flame in his eyes leapt up in a fast flicker before fading. "That bint again...?" He said in quite the condescending manner, and Ryou let the ghost of a frown pass across his stark white lips.

"You like his stubbornness, don't you," he stated simply, and Bakura quirked an eyebrow at this declaration, his metaphorical fur lying flat on his back.

"Hm."

"He's not a wimp. And that pleases you, right?" Ryou was staring hard at his twin, who stared right back at him with those fiery eyes. "You're wondering just how far you can push him, just when he'll snap and curse you to your face."

Bakura's face was suddenly split by a wide Cheshire grin that showed off his knife-sharp canines, one that seemed particularly deadly in its cause. "Always the an over-thinker, you are..." he chided his twin mockingly. "An expert_ paranoiac_."

Ryou made a face before he coughed into his sleeve, and he got to his feet in order to look Bakura in the eye, (although he had to tilt his head up a little) quite seriously.

"I'd be careful about how far," he coughed into his sleeve violently, "You push him," he finished, his brows furrowed. Bakura, in response, simply shrugged, and his malicious scarlet eyes sent an frighteningly familiar chill through Ryou's body.

He has seen that look before, and it meant nothing good.

Silently, Bakura turned his back on his twin, and without looking back he chuckled quite darkly and shook his head so slightly that it was almost undetectable.

"It's almost endearing when you care for such little worms." The door creaked as it began to shut behind his darkened form. "They always get crushed anyways."

* * *

Malik arrived home alone, body dripping from a sudden and extremely cold downpour, and his eyes seemed to glow in the clouded darkness of the storm. He opened the door with a rough kick, only to see a tall and stocky man with brown hair gelled into a sharp point, that he knew all too well, speaking with his sister.

"Mr. Kemo, I implore you, we'll have the money Mr. Pegasus so desperately needs in a week or so," Ishizu said seemingly calmly, but Malik could nearly taste the sarcasm in her ever-deadpan voice. "So, if you please-"

"Mr. Pegasus," the gorilla of a man rumbled, "has graciously extended your debt deadline for a good while. It should be no surprise that even the benevolent Mr. Pegasus has put an end to his extremely sufferable patience, Miss Ishtar."

"It's also no surprise," Ishizu began testily, "that Mr. Pegasus has no idea of how much we scurry around to collect enough crumbs for his mountain of bread."

Mr. Kemo visibly tensed up at the rosey yet thorned insult, and began to lift up a browned, meaty hand. It was then that Malik acted, with violet eyes flashing.

"Touch her," he said obligingly, as Mr. Kemo turned to him, "and Mr. Pegasus will be picking up _more_ than just his filthy money from this Ra-forsaken rathole."

Ishizu was obviously shocked (if her wide eyes and gaping mouth were any indication) at both Malik's timing and his open threatening of a stocky and strong man who was quite capable of beating him to a pulp, but Mr. Kemo reacted before she could as he fixed his gaze in Malik's direction.

"...Come Monday, Miss Ishtar, if you haven't paid, I assure you that more severe measures will be taken," he said, his deep and gravelly voice quite ominous, and with that he walked past the dripping teen without a single word , right into the pouring rain.

The door was shut in such a finite way that all the siblings could do was stare at one another soundlessly, unable to express their greatly varying emotions as the sound of rain seemed to only dampen the mood in the air. Finally, Ishizu seemed to regain her voice.

"...You fool," she chastised, but her lips were turned up in a smile that was a borderline grimace. "Debt collectors aren't to be dealt with so rashly, never mind Mr. Pegasus's. He owns a _good_ number of things in this city."

Malik shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not feeling too sufferable myself today."

Ishizu actually chuckled, albeit gravely, for a moment before sobering. "That makes two of us," she murmured.

The Egyptian boy sighed, and crossed his arms as he kicked off his shoes. "So. Should we start packing up yet, Isis?" He asked bluntly. "Becoming a street rat again won't be too different from living here."

She shook her dark head, impassive eyes weary. "That's what an emergency fund is for, Malik. It should sustain for the rent until the next couple of paychecks come in."

He fixed her with a dark stare. "And when will that be?" He questioned slowly, as if to confirm what he already knew. What _she_ knew as well, deep down in her being.

She said absolutely nothing, her head pointedly turned away from him, and after a moment of fragile quiet, he turned his back on her silently and headed to his safe and quiet haven where he could shut himself up once more.

There really was no point in discussing a truth they both knew all too well.

Friday morning, when it finally arrived, brought along with it a jarring jolt of change that caught Malik a bit by surprise. The majority of the week had been spent in a fiery meditation on his part, Mr. Kemo's visit unwittingly reigniting the fire of burning desire in Malik's very being.

His desire for power.

The teen, swallowed once more by this deeply rooted desire to rise from the dirt, had studied continually away in his room and had then studied some more in the lunchroom all week, with an equally solemn Yugi, bearing his trademark apple, at his side. He had emerged from the thick shell of solitude that he now precariously carried on his back, and was returning to his usual snarky and obssessively-studious self (although the latter trait was prevalent in all of his moods).

Presently, Malik had been awakened by an insistent ringing, which at first seemed foggy and unimportant to his brain at first. Then, as common sense finally awoke from its slumber, the Egyptian flung off his covers and leapt to his feet. As quietly and quickly as possible he went down the hall, and stumbled a bit clumsily into the cold and creaky kitchen with a grunt.

"Morn...ing," he greeted with a hitching grumble. "Malik Ishtar speaking."

"Mr. Ishtar, Mr. Ahmar has requested that you to come in from four o' clock sharp to six today," the woman on the other end droned, not sounding too thrilled about being up and about herself. "Make sure you come in on time," she emphasized, sounding almost anxious for his sake, before she hung up.

Malik let the beeping sound in his ear. _Once. Twice. Three_-

He placed down the phone slowly onto the receiver, his violet eyes sparked with the match of pride, and felt the back of his head with a resenting aura emitting from his whole body like a cloud of thick, dark fog.

"This crap again..."

* * *

In school that day, Malik appeared to be a bit anxious, with his eyes flitting about like a fly with no suitable perch on which to rest. Yugi observed this cautiously, not voicing his internal concern for the Egyptian, and instead meditated on the fact that he was being called into KNK again and would have to walk there alone.

Since he, of course, wouldn't want to interrupt his brother's quality time with a female that made Yugi's skin _crawl_ with utter disdain - just by thinking about her.

"Today stinks." The amethyst-eyed boy summarized his general non-happy-go-lucky feelings at lunch time as Malik chewed on a sandwich that looked akin to cardboard and quite frankly tasted as such. The Egyptian looked at him with crystalline-like eyes for a moment, before nodding in agreement as he turned his gaze back to his food.

"Moreso than you'd think," he deadpanned, before taking another bite. "Well. At least in my case."

Yugi raised a brow curiously and gazed expectantly at Malik until he swallowed his sandwich awkwardly. "What?" The Egyptian asked eventually, disliking the continuous attention.

"What do you mean by that?" He inquired, blowing a strand of his blond bangs out of his face absently. "Something bothering you?"

Malik snorted, as if the question was absolutely ludicrous. "You could say that."

"...You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"I'm not really the pour-out-my-heart type."

Yugi sighed in exasperation. "You're difficult, Malik."

He snorted again, and took his last bite of the cardboard food before dropping it casually onto his tray. "I've been called worse."

The shorter teen was filled with the oddly violent desire to smack the Egyptian around with his sack lunch, but thought better of it...for the sake of the apple. Instead, he treated the tan teen to a cool and crisp silence for the rest of lunch, with no sound exchanged between them save for the persistent crunching of the fresh green fruit.

It seemed, to the two boys especially, to be eons until the last bell finally rung in its menacing way, encouraging all the students to hightail it out of the building as quickly as possible. Yugi was, remarkably, one of the first to get out of the school, and slunk around in quite a suspicious manner as if to avoid detection. Crouching low to the ground, Yugi hid behind the fat concrete base of the school's poorly maintained flagpole and glanced about the street until he found what he was looking for.

A used black Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 sat waiting in front of the building, purring and occasionally hacking a little. Yugi could see a figure much like his, but taller, sitting in the driver's seat, tapping a steady yet impatient rhythm on the wheel with his fingernails.

_Tap tap tap-pity tap. Tap tap-pity tap tap. Tap tap tap-pity tap_-

"Yami!"

Yugi jolted abruptly, as a pretty girl with sleek brown hair cut into a short and flirty style walked right past him, her big sky blue eyes wide with eagerness. She wore a short-sleeved collared blue top with a white belt and mini tie, and her knee-length white shirt billowed beautifully, like it was in a permanent sea breeze. The driver's window of the Camaro rolled down to reveal an obviously restless Yami, his flashing crimson eyes lowered in a slightly irate manner.

"Afternoon, Tea."

The girl's facial features were stretched in a radiant smile, and her cheeks were peachy with endearing embarrassment. "Sorry for taking so long, I had a cleaning job in the library last period..." she apologized with a good-natured shrug.

Yugi openly grimaced as she bent over, allowing Yami to kiss her forehead. "It's fine." Yami said quite cordially as he _smiled_ at her. "Let's go."

Tea quickly walked around and took her seat in the passenger's side, and within moments the car took off, with a fierce growl of the tires against pavement. Wordlessly Yugi stood to his feet, his face perfectly neutral despite his whirling negative thoughts, and began his long walk to the largest business in Domino City. He had seen enough of her to make his small and well-buried inner fire burn slowly with the power of a flaring star.

* * *

Meanwhile, Malik had already began his trek to his own personal taste of hellfire in the flesh, his eyes narrowed fiercely as if already facing his shadow-like boss. He had not forgotten the damage his head had sustained in his last encounter with Bakura, and was dead set on _not_ forgetting it for the rest of his life.

(Granted that he hadn't sustained any brain damage from the attack.)

After a good fifteen minutes fighting through the crowd of thick and equally pushy people, he arrived at the KNK building in a frustrated tizzy, just in time to quite literally bump into a familiar face, with a wrinkled collared white shirt in lieu of a tie and blond hair even scruffier than the last time Malik had seen him.

"Hey, watch where yer goin'!" Joey protested as he turned, before realizing it was Malik. "Oh, Mal! Long time no see pal! How've ya been?"

"Mal?" The Egyptian deadpanned, as the blond imparted a mandatory tousling of his sandy blond hair upon his head. "A week isn't that long. It's good to see you too," he paused as he noticed the dark bruises in between his eyes and one on his cheek, "Joey."

The blond noted his attention upon his facial decorations and furrowed his brows. "Whatcha staring at? Oh, those bruises-"

Malik turned his head away curtly before Joey could breathe another word, and walked into the building. "You don't have to tell me anything."

Joey was silent for a brief moment before he chuckled, and followed after the blunt Egyptian. "You're _strange_, for lack of a better word." He commented, sounding strangely amused, and Malik simply shrugged as they made their way to the elevator, dismissing the untouched topic.

After waiting for about two minutes, the elevator door opened and emptied its load. With a reluctant aura now encompassing Joey and a prickling disdain tickling the hairs on Malik's head, the two office boys stepped inside and watched the closing doors only to be halted by a pleading voice.

"Hold the door, please!"

Malik jolted at the familiarity as Joey abandoned the buttons and instead opted to literally wrench the elevator doors back as Yugi stumbled in a bit clumsily. "Thank you..." Yugi sighed in relief, and brightened upon looking up at Joey's grinning face. "Joey!" He exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "I guess Kaiba wants us to work together again, huh?"

"Suppose so," Joey muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as the elevator shot up, "although you're way better at paperwork check than I am."

"You're fine at it."

"Ah!" The blond turned to Malik, who was still speechless from both shock and the dizzying speed of the elevator. "Lemme introduce ya to Mal, the third office boy who got suckered with Bakura Ahmar as a boss!" He joked, but ceased his laughter as the two stared at each other with identical agape expressions on their faces.

"...Why do you both look like you've just seen your soulmate?" Joey asked dryly, jamming his foot in the elevator door to keep it on the fortieth floor.

"Malik, you're the the third office boy?" Yugi asked in wonderment, and Malik nodded.

"Yeah. I won't lie, I'm surprised to see you here." The Egyptian admitted, his voice cracking a bit. "Of all the people it could've been, it's you."

"Perhaps we're bound by fate's strings," Yugi said thoughtfully, looking at him with a mysterious smile, and Malik shrugged neutrally.

"Fate isn't something I personally like to think about."

"C'mon, Yug, we can talk later," Joey groaned, evidently losing the battle between his foot and the elevator as the doors attempted to grind his foot into dust. "I'm about to get my foot amputated by a door..."

"I'll see you around, Malik. Good luck," he added, as his eyes softened with sympathy, and allowed Joey to pry the doors off of his half-crushed foot. Joey flashed a pained grin at the Egyptian before the two were gone with the acceleration of the death-elevator.

After reaching the fiftieth floor, Malik choked down the bile that threatened to spill out of his throat for a minute and composed himself to the best of his ability as he walked closer and closer to the devil's lair.

"Afternoon, Malik." Mai breezed past him with a playful wink, and the Egyptian attempted to muster up a smile that probably came off looking like a horrid grimace.

"Geez kid. Don't look so excited," she said with a grim half smile. "I hate to tell you, but he's been in a terrible mood, honestly. Be real careful how you tread, hun."

"Thanks for the heads-up," Malik sighed, and with a sympathetic wave of her hand she was gone. He approached the black door, feeling his temper flaring already as he knocked three times, making sure they were loud, crisp and sharp.

"I'm coming in," he said bluntly after there was a significant lapse of silence, and opened the door only to be greeted with darkness. "Are you even here? Bakura?" He stressed, sounding only slightly on-edge.

The sound of a weapon whistled through the air, embedding itself right by his neck, and Malik was sure that the executive could hear his heart thudding in his chest as there was the nearly imperceptible sound of someone shifting.

"Good day," a light switch clicked on, and Malik found that he was face to face with a demon, which licked its lips with relish. "Malik. I believe you forgot _'lord._'"

* * *

"It's good to see you both came," Kaiba said coolly to his two office boys as they stood in front of his desk, although he sent a pointed stare at Joey's rumpled clothes, "looking slightly better than half-drowned _rats_."

"No problem, Mr. Kaiba," Yugi said politely, and Joey pointedly picked at his left ear with his pinky until Yugi nudged him hard. "Yeah. No sweat, money bags."

Kaiba resisted the urge to steeple his fingers into his forehead permanently and instead blew out a long and frustrated sigh. "Today, I needed the both of you to handle separate jobs for me, to the best of your abilities. Yugi, my desk is filled with different types of paperwork. Arrange it in a preferably orderly fashion."

"Yes sir," the short teen said obediently, and set off to start his monumental task as he left Joey and Kaiba alone. Face to face.

"Hey? Whadda 'bout me?" Joey asked sharply. "What are ya planning, cold cash?"

Kaiba didn't say a word, but left his office instead, leaving a flabbergasted Joey behind. "Hey! I'm working under you for the money! No work, no pay, right?! You have to give me work, you son of an overpriced gun!" He shouted after the executive.

Ten minutes later, Joey was quietly fuming to himself as he leaned against Kaiba's desk, muttering obscenities of colorful varieties against Kaiba's name, when the man in question came back.

With a sullen-looking raven-haired child in tow.

_What_.

"...Who the heck's the kiddo?" Joey deadpanned, looking at Kaiba with an expression of increasing incredulity. "...Is he yours?" He asked disbelievingly.

"No, you idiot." Kaiba resisted the urge to beat common sense into him with his steel briefcase. "This is my little brother, Mokuba. You will be taking care of and entertaining him today."

**_What_**.

"Don't look so moronically lost. We discussed this."

"That was no discussion...!" Joey protested as he threw up his hands dramatically. "That was you droppin' a bomb and leavin' without sayin' nothing else!"

Yugi shifted uncomfortably in Kaiba's seat.

Joey looked set to explode into a fit of Kaiba-hatred-induced destruction, when the kid _spoke_, in a tone eerily similar to his brother's, with a cold edge and all.

"This man is most amusing," he said, with a completely dead expression, "although he looks quite rough and uncouth, brother."

Joey blinked, absolutely shocked, as the kid fixed him with his cold gray gaze. It was like looking into the gaze of a programmed, yet humanoid, robot.

Hard and lifeless.

"Is he suitable?" Kaiba asked him, and the blond could detect a hint of something akin to warmth that was most certainly not in the executive's voice when he spoke to him.

"Yes, brother." Was the ever-so-lifeless reply. "He's definitely not a fake."

Kaiba took a deep breath as he patted Mokuba on the head, and strode over to stand right in front of Joey, lording his acutely tall stature over the blond. Intense warning flames melted the frostbite in his blue eyes.

"If you hurt my brother," Kaiba began lowly, dangerously, "you can imagine where you'll find yourself."

"Dead?" Joey asked, raising a blond brow.

"You'd be better off that way compared to what _I_ have in mind."

Kaiba then turned away curtly from the roughly dressed blond, and as he walked towards the door, tossed a comment over his shoulder.

"If you need anything, Mokuba-"

"-I'll call," the dark-eyed boy finished, holding up a black iPhone. "Good luck with your work, brother."

With that, the office door closed, and Joey was left with a furiously working Yugi and a cold, lifeless kid who looked as if he was the sole survivor of a devastating zombie apocalypse.

Great.

"Hey, kid." Joey asked, and Mokuba turned to him. "How old are you, anyhow?"

"It's Mokuba."

"What?"

"My name is not kid. It's Mokuba."

The blond exhaled, already peeved. "How old are ya, Mokuba?"

"I am twelve years old."

Joey shook his head, still in disbelief over how stony this kid was. "Mokuba, have you ever played sports? Ran outside?"

The raven-haired tween shrugged. "What's the use of playing alone?" He deadpanned. "I turned to more fruitful things, like studying the structural variations between nucleic acids. Do you know one of the differences between DNA and RNA is determined by the lack of ribose-"

"Whoa," Joey covered Mokuba's mouth. "You've been brainwashed, kid. Doesn't Kaibasta- I mean, doesn't your brother play with you a little bit?"

"He has no time for such childish behavior. As the head executive, alongside Mr. Ahmar, of KNK, it is in his and the company's best interest to keep distractions such as myself out of the way."

Joey suddenly felt sorry for the tween, as he turned to his cellphone and began rapidly tapping on the screen with his fingers. He probably had little exposure to childern his age, and obviously wasn't too good of a communicator...

The blond vaguely wondered if Mokuba was lonely, despite the wealth and riches at his feet.

Like a prince trapped in a strong and unyielding glass castle.

"Hey. Mokuba." He placed his rough hand on Mokuba's scruffy head, and ruffled it in a friendly manner as the boy looked up at him blankly. "Let's have some fun, alright?"

* * *

"You came back after all."

Bakura was staring at him, those crimson eyes burning with pure and unadulterated sadism, and the Egyptian stared right back. It was better, although not by much, for Malik to do so, instead of paying attention to the enormous monster snake better known as Diabound on Bakura's desk.

"It is my job." He replied neutrally, although Bakura detected a brief wave of several negative emotions in those lilac pools. "Whether I like it or not."

"Would 'it' be 'me,' Malik?" The executive drawled in a mock-placating manner, putting a pale hand to his chest for emphasis. The Egyptian said nothing, but instead pointedly clamped his mouth shut, causing Bakura to throw back his head with laughter.

"That's so cold of you." Bakura chuckled darkly as Diabound hissed bad-temperately at the tan teen. "In fact, your eyes could give a poor soul frostbite."

Pale fingers reached out and nearly touched the kohl-lined corners of Malik's seemingly calm eyes, but only hovered for a few long moments before dropping away.

Malik still said nothing, as he felt, oddly, he was being tested by the executive.

"Mm. Fine." The white devil sighed, as if defeated, but his eyes glinted quite dangerously. "I see how it is. Go fetch me my coffee, if you may."

There was a moment of tense quiet, before Malik nodded reluctantly.

"As you wish, Lord Bakura."

The Egyptian turned his back to the executive, who chuckled again, and swiftly exited the office with his head raised high. Bakura turned to his pet, who flicked out a black tongue as he stroked its scaly head.

"So much bloody pride and hate," the executive said simply, although something in his tone made him sound particularly bemused, "hidden behind such a pretty face. It's quite...intriguing."

Diabound bared its teeth and relaxed its body as Bakura moved his pointer finger gently down its shiny, scaled back.

"I wonder what kinds of lovely _scars_ he keeps so tightly bound."

The abrupt ringing of Bakura's cellphone interrupted his dark musings, and the executive picked it up with a sigh. "This is Bakura Ahmar. What is your business this afternoon?"

"_Nothing much, blood ghost,"_ came a rough, velvety and dark voice, and Bakura visibly went rigid._ "Just checking on you, since you've obviously got Ryou agitated again."_

"...You're supposed to be digging up people's sandy graves, you worthless thief," the executive deadpanned, and barking laughter sounded in his ear. "Wait, you said Ryou called you? When?"

_"No. I'm just good at sensing your auratic disruptions."_

"Stop trying to piss me off and answer the bloody question."

_"Ah, so it's working?" _

Bakura hissed and hung up, although the phone rang again, insistently, a mere ten seconds later. "What?!" He demanded sharply.

_"I heard you have another office boy now."_

The executive paused. "And if I do?"

_"Heard he's Egyptian."_

"...And?"

_"When I come home sometime, you should introduce me."_

Bakura was silent for a moment.

"Don't bet your bloody life on it."

* * *

_AN: Erm...I'm back. Hola, mi amigos buenos? XD_

_*avoids violent knife-throwing*_

_Sorry for the **slight** delay...school's **really** busy, and it's going to be even busier now. I'm going to be in a play November 16-17. Not to mention I'll be starting basketball season pretty soon as well. I'll try my best, but my story updates will more than likely be rather stagnant for a little while._

_Thanks be to SoulMistress12, who is my beautiful and magnificent beta. She's the spirit bomb. (lol, my puns are gorgeous 8,D)_

_I have a challenge, for those of you who want a slightly faster update. If you read this chapter, leave at least one review. Comment. Share your thoughts. Not only does it often provoke me to write more, it lets me have an insight into what I need to work on. You could also visit the poll on my profile. (hinty hint hint) _

_Not to mention with how busy I am, I probably won't update until there's a significant amount of people who want the next chapter. Just saying, the next part is less filler._

_Thanks be to **CrimsonSrawberry17, Fire-Mokey, Atem-Fan4eva, DarkspiritYami, Neko, fire-and-ice9800, SeptemberBloom, Bre, Miss Macabre Grey, TheAverIn, Intrigued, BakuraxMalikNum1Fan **and a special thanks to** One percent **for inspiring me to get back to finishing this chapter. Good on you, and way to show your fellow readers the **POWER** of REVIEWING. XD_

_Review?_

_Sayonara, Harvest Dragon _


	5. Fire and Ice

Chapter Five

**Fire and Ice**

* * *

_There was no escape._

_The sound of a child's tormented cry pierced the foul and dusty air of the dark building as a line of children were pushed along like a pack of mangy, wounded mutts. Steel chains bound their small and thin hands and feet, rubbing their soft, young skin so raw that their blisters blistered and bled themselves black._

_Tears of pain and misery streamed down into the dry earth, evaporating with the sheer heat of the baking ground, but no one heeded them._

_No one could see. No one cared._

_Crying. Sniffling. Rattling of the crusted black steel chains. Rumbling and grumbling stomachs. Pleas and sobs and pain **everywhere**__..._

_And then, that horrible whip. The sound of terror and death, cracking and __smacking skin, brown backs and pale backs with open and raw welts turning red, then blue, and finally a crusty, yucky, deadly black as dark as the night._

_"We're going to die here, aren't we?" _

_"Don't say that..!"_

_"I'm going to die in this place. We **all** are. And no one's ever going to come, because nobody **bloody** cares!"_

_"Stop it Bakura...!"_

_"They'll whip us until we bleed to death, and sacrifice us to these stupid **gods**!"_

_"Quit talking, you wicked demons! Your black hearts are foul blemishes upon the glory of this holy temple!"_

All that was left of the cacophony was the echoes of dry sobbing. The screams and tears that once accompanied them had long since been ceased by their crushing oppression.

_And still, no one cared._

* * *

The Egyptian was greeted promptly upon his arrival with Bakura's coffee by the unmistakable sound of a sailing knife, and he immediately froze in place as his lavender eyes flickered up to confirm the weapon of choice. Sure enough, there it was, a flick blade glinting menacingly at him, and Malik felt his limbs and tongue loosen as the fiery flames of fanned hatred melted the cold fear in his veins.

"I wasn't aware management maiming was an _actual_ pastime around here," Malik said crisply, meeting Bakura's eyes without batting an eyelid, and the executive flashed him a sardonic Cheshire grin in response before stroking Diabound's head with uncharacteristic fondness.

"The devil has many hobbies," he replied with a complacent glance in Malik's direction, "And never enough workers."

Malik snorted half-under his breath. "I couldn't hazard a guess as to why," he muttered, and Bakura chuckled darkly.

"You have such a hateful tongue," he said with eerie cheer, "I just might have to cut it off."

"I'll make sure to watch it carefully then," he said in an impudently airy manner as he set Bakura's steaming coffee on his desk, right by his propped-up boots, and Malik failed to notice the executive's eyes glint rather dangerously.

Suddenly, the steaming coffee cup careened towards Malik, and its near-to-boiling contents splattered all over his collared purple shirt and his tan pants. He bit down hard on his tongue to choke down the cry of agony bubbling up in his throat as the liquid sizzled on his clothes.

"Oops," Bakura said lightly, as the Egyptian's eyes attempted to thoroughly scathe _him_ with intense hatred, "Terribly sorry, Malik."

The Egyptian looked down at his clothes before shooting Bakura a withering glance. "I'm sure," he managed to grind out, the hot liquid already inflicting livid burns on his skin, and he grimaced at the dark coffee stains already setting into his shirt.

It was a brutal bruising to Malik's pride to stand and take such obviously contempt-based behavior from someone so utterly intolerable, who he couldn't possibly snap at for fear of being fired, or worse, humiliated even further in an even more despicable manner.

He had never felt so indignant in his life.

"Back to business," Bakura continued nonchalantly, although there was now a delightedly wicked light in his eyes, "I want you to make me another cup of coffee."

Malik was suddenly quite certain he would end up biting own his tongue off, as the rage bubbling inside of him was surely too much to hold inside one person without serious injury. "Yes sir," he hardly managed to say, before turning on his heel and heading for the door, but Bakura's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"When you come back, I believe it's time I show you around," the executive said with a tone that made Malik just a little apprehensive, and he exited the office with a final distrustful glance cast over his shoulder.

* * *

"Malik, honey, what happened to you?"

The Egyptian turned to see Mai looking over him with something between an aghast expression and blatant sympathy. "You look like you've been through the seven hells and back."

The Egyptian gave her a jack-o-lantern grimace. "You could call it that," he said testily, glancing at the department manager with an expression that could have made even the most terrifying demon die right there on the spot.

Fortunately, Mai was no devil.

"Are those...coffee stains?" She began to ask, and the pieces of the nasty puzzle seemed to click together all at once in her sharp mind. Her deep eyes flashed with semi-disbelief. "He wouldn't-"

"He did," Malik corrected her snappily, "And you know as well as I that he _would_."

Mai resisted the urge to laugh out loud at Malik's non-placid tone, and instead took his arm with a freshly manicured hand. "Let's get you a bit cleaned up, shall we?" she asked with a sympathetic squeeze of his arm and he obliged, following her without question.

He found that he was appreciating Mai's sanity more and more, and he dolefully realized that this appreciation would only continue to grow during this bitter subservience.

Malik returned in a few minutes with Bakura's second round of coffee, his eyes slanted with evident -and quite justifiable- mistrust, and he placed down the coffee well out of the way of Bakura's shiny boots this time. "Your coffee," he said brusquely, and the executive's pointed stare prompted him on, "_Lord_ Bakura."

"Much obliged," was the openly mocking reply, and the whittete took a posh sip of the liquid with a sigh of satisfaction as Diabound wrapped around his shoulders with a hiss.

"Quite _sweet_," he allowed with a smile, and the Egyptian's eye twitched in a manner that hinted at his rapidly dwindling tolerance.

_I'm sure my humiliation is extra _sweet_, you sadist._

"Now," the white devil stood to his feet as Diabound coiled around his arm, "I have some things I need to show you."

"Your collection of assorted knives?" It took Malik a few seconds to comprehend that he'd said this waspish -and rather foolish- comment out loud.

Bakura raised a brow as an ill-humored smile crossed his face. "No, I'm afraid I didn't bring it along today. Now, if you're done being a cheeky _brat_, come along."

Malik stiffened his neck and followed Bakura with assumed meekness, but in truth, he was wishing with every hateful fiber of his being that Bakura would drop dead.

_I should've poisoned the bastard._

"You should be grateful, _Arabian_," the executive said with a darkly faux sweetness, and Malik's glare intensified at this pointed racially slanderous jab. "Not every office boy gets the _grand tour_."

The fiery disdain in Malik's veins momentarily died down at this statement. "Grand tour?" he repeated, his eyes brightening with curiosity despite himself. "Of the KNK building?"

"Of course," Bakura said, his voice quite cheery, "what else?"

Malik felt the closest to ecstatic then he had in a long time. _This_ was why he was enduring such unprovoked malicious treatment; he wanted to see what made KNK _tick_. Why _was_ it so successful? Outside records weren't nearly enough to satiate the Egyptian's hunger for the secrets of the business's prowess, and now he was _finally_ creeping a mite closer to his ultimate goal.

Bakura led him wordlessly to the main elevator and the various workers waiting in front of them instantly parted, their faces quite cowed as the executive passed by. Malik nearly marveled at the amount of fearful respect and terror the white devil had instilled in his subordinates, and was on some level grudgingly impressed as well.

The whitette did, admittedly, have a highly commanding aura about him. His eyes seemed to always contain that fiery scorn of everyone and everything, which were coupled with his sharp and scathing mouth that was no respecter of persons. It was no wonder why regular people shied- no, downright avoided- contact with such a person, nor was it now difficult to fathom how his last office boy had quit in tears.

As they boarded the now magically vacant elevator, Bakura cast him a wry glance. "You're making that face."

"What?" Malik was snapped abruptly out of his reverie, and the demon chuckled in that strangely amused manner of his. "What face?" he demanded, irate at being disturbed in the midst of his musings.

"That _mulling_ face. Dissecting people with your mind." Bakura snorted in a matter-of-fact manner. "Pondering and thinking and hating, occasionally."

"You're insane," was his immediate response, yet his hairs prickled at the executive's bone-chilling accuracy. "_You_ would have no idea what I'm thinking about."

Bakura simply laughed nastily as the elevator plunged downward, and Malik instinctively grabbing at the rails with a nauseated expression. As the elevator halted, the executive stepped out the doors with a certain air of eccentricity in his reply as the Egyptian trailed weakly behind him.

"You know what they say. Insanity _loves_ company, Malik."

Malik ignored his almost sing-song-like comment and instead opted to follow the whittete in a stubborn silence, his unwillingness to carry on their odd conversion made quite plain. At this, Bakura chuckled again, as if it was all an amusing joke only he was in on, and Malik couldn't help but feel like the executive was mocking him again.

Bakura stopped in front of an open doorway suddenly, his ever-taunting laughter stilled for the moment, and Malik stepped around him to behold the largest computer office he had ever see in his entire life.

The pure white of the polished floor was positively blinding, the fresh wax gleaming in a fancy manner with the reflection of the radiant ceiling lights. Advanced computers lined the numerous wooden desks, each platform and desktop in perfect alignment with one another. Women of similar stature who decked in identical crimson red KNK uniforms and had their hair tied up exactly the same way typed away at their assigned PCs. Surprisingly, their pretty faces remained absolutely expressionless and controlled despite the looming presence of the less saner of the two KNK executives.

"This is one of the customer service rooms," Bakura explained with an oddly pleased smile, "that take care of product questions and minor business propositions. The women you see here rotate after exactly six hours with the men's group. We separated the men and women in this department for concentration purposes, at Kaiba's personal request."

Malik was momentarily speechless at the amount of pure control the executive had purposefully flaunted in this single workroom, and he wondered just how many other people were pinned under the deadly sharp claws of this ruthless man. How many more people had been desperate to crawl to the top, only to be crushed into the mold of the executives' steely whim?

"It's all in beautiful order, isn't it? One could say it's almost...perfection."

The Egyptian cast him a sparing glance, and saw that an odd light had fallen over the executive's sharp features. His normally blazing eyes were glassy and faraway, as if he was speaking to a phantom that else that no one else could see, and his mouth twitched up into a bone-chillingly sardonic grin. "But never satisfactory, right...?"

Bakura's phone vibrated abruptly, and his strangely clouded red eyes suddenly seemed to focus again as he checked the number. "Excuse me," he said, his tone unnaturally cheerful as he held up a hand for Malik to wait, and a cruel smile split the whittete's features as he answered his device. "Fancy _you_ calling me, sir."

_Sir?_ Malik thought disbelievingly, looking at the pale executive with unconcealed incredulity. _Who in the world is he talking to?_

There was a disgruntled murmur on the other end, and Bakura's grin widened. "Oh _really_? Dreadfully sorry, but_ you_ of all people should know how I like to..._expand_ my _horizons_."

A slight pause ensued, and as much as Malik strained, he couldn't hear a thing. Bakura's mouth seemed to pull down a tad now, his eyes smoldering. "Well, if _that's_ all you have to discuss, I've wasted enough time on humoring your fruitless endeavors. Have a _wonderful_ afternoon, Mr. Pegasus."

Malik froze at the mention of such a personally taboo name as Bakura ended the call with a smart snap of his phone, and the executive steepled his pale fingers into his forehead. "Such a desperate shadow of a man I once knew," he said with mock-lament, his mouth curved in a mocking smirk.

"Pegasus."

Bakura gave Malik a curious look, noticing the sudden hateful steeliness in his lavender eyes. "What about him?" he asked a bit bemusedly.

The teen blinked a bit stupidly before turning his impassive expression back on. "I didn't realize that you associated directly with Pegasus Incorporated."

Bakura turned away from the Egyptian with a strange smile, as if he knew that Malik was covering his true intentions with a seemingly simple question. "I'm afraid there's a lot more that you won't realize."

* * *

Joey was unabashedly _stumped_.

Mokuba casually flicked aside the blonde's last remaining white piece, effectively throwing Joey into checkmate once again with his black queen. Yugi was still faithfully sorting Kaiba's huge amount of papers, his violet eyes sharp and focused on his task; and he would occasionally break his concentration by glancing at Joey and Mokuba with unconstrained curiosity.

"...Win number sixteen," Mokuba said, his voice unenthused, and Joey ran a hand through his scruffy yellow locks in utter perplexity. "You are surprisingly persistent, despite your admitted and proven inability to properly put your chessmen to use."

The simple blond took a couple of moments to comprehend what the kid had said before grinning sheepishly. "I was never good as Serenity," he said with a chuckle, and then suddenly sobered as he adverted his eyes from Mokuba's ever-dead gaze.

"...Serenity?" the mini Kaiba asked with a different tone that could almost be classified as a steel-coated curiosity, and Yugi paused in his paperwork to glance at Joey with worry evident in his large eyes.

Joey grimaced, looking as if he had mentioned the unholiest of unholy taboos. "Yeah."

"...Is she no longer on this plane?"

The blond disregarded the almost alien way Mokuba had phrased his inquiry and instead sighed quite deeply, with a solemn sadness that told the brainiac boy that he had just stepped on a slice of terrain best left untrodden.

"She might as well not be."

Mokuba was silent for a minute or so, opting to simply scrutinize Joey's morse posture and faded brown eyes as the blond dutifully and quietly set up the chessboard pieces once more.

Yugi realized he had been sitting motionless for a while, watching the exchange with bated breath, and he abruptly began sorting the monster pile once more. Joey set the last piece in place and attempted to grin doggishly.

_Painfully._

"Another round, Mokuba?" he asked, although there was no light in his eyes this time, and Mokuba stayed silent for a single beat.

"...No, thank you."

Joey blinked. "Huh? Wha...I got the board set up an' everything!" he protested, looking genuinely disappointed at his waste of mental effort, and Yugi bit back a relieved chuckle as Mokuba reached out to interchange a white knight for the white king.

"You mixed up the rooks and bishops, as well as the knights and the royal pair," the mini Kaiba corrected him, as monotone as ever, but the slightest twitch passed through his thin lips momentarily before it disappeared. "But your honest efforts are...admirable."

"Thanks," the blond replied, with a real grin. "Maybe I'll beat you next time, eh?" Instinctively, he leaned over to playfully tousle Mokuba's long black hair with a gentle hand, and the younger Kaiba's eyes were childishly quizzical as he pulled back in surprise.

"Why did you ruin my hair?" he asked, sounding almost lost for words. "Is there any significant point in your action?"

Joey couldn't help it. He laughed out loud, and both Yugi and Mokuba started involuntarily at the loud and somehow endearingly obnoxious chortles. "Geez, kiddo. It's just somethin' friends do to each other."

"Friends." Mokuba repeated with an insipid, not bothering to correct the blond's slip-up. "Is that what you would consider this professional relation to be? Paid kindness? An endorsed friendship, courtesy of my brother?" the boy's voice sounded almost human for the first time, with the amount of brutal bitterness swimming underneath the seemingly stoic surface.

Joey simply grinned cluelessly, taking the child a bit aback. "I'm not a guy into the technical stuff."

* * *

Ryou was absolutely sick of being sick.

He had unfortunately been overcome by his latest bout of violent, hacking coughs, and had been more or less chained and confined to the Ahmar household by his dear older brother. After a few solid hours of serious brooding and coughing in his bare and furniture-void room, the whittete was already worn out due to his avidly lively protests against his own tired body.

Now he wandered the halls of the great and empty house with a cream duvet draped over his thin shoulders, not really looking anywhere but at his pale bare feet that were a vivid stark white against the velvety red carpet. His brown eyes, although soft, seemed far away, his retracing of memories and never-ceasing thought pattern fading his present focus. He couldn't help but worry about his twin – or Malik, for that matter, being completely at the mercy of a particularly moody Bakura without him as a nearly fail-safe buffer.

Admittedly, his concern leaned much more in Malik's favor.

He coughed violently, and the metallic taste of blood lingered at the back of his throat as he drew his thick duvet tightly around himself. Ryou was so used to feeling ill that he highly doubted he truly remembered what feeling "healthy" really meant anymore. Although he had known once upon a time, when the world was bright and sweet, and his constantly failing health was untouched by the creeping tendrils of the dark reality that had left its hideous mark on both he and his brothers.

"So long ago," he muttered vaguely, suppressing a shiver that had nothing to do with his ailment, and proceeded to jump a clear foot into the air as the landline rang right then in an obnoxiously loud manner.

With a rapidly-beating heart rattling in his thin ribcage, he quickly made his way to the offending phone and picked it up with a pale and shaky hand.

"This is the Ahmar residence, how may I-" he broke down into another violent round of coughing for a moment or two, "be of assistance?" he finished weakly, and all-too-familiar raucous laughter erupted in his ear.

"Are you sure you don't need some assistance yourself, little brother?" came the raspy reply, and Ryou let a very bleak look pass over his sickly pale face.

"Akefia."

"None other," was the velvety reply, and Ryou raised a suspicious brow at the sound of his eldest brother's rather chocolate-like voice.

_Too_ _chocolate-like_.

"...You called him, didn't you," Ryou said flatly, evidently exasperated.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" His voice was an innocent purr.

"Akefia, did you mess with him?"

"Me? Ruffle our personal _devil's_ fur? Of _course_ not."

Ryou ran a slender hand over his face and gave another long sigh, his eyelids drooped tiredly over his worn brown eyes. "Akefia, you know Bakura gets _extremely_ riled when you mess with him..."

"M'hm."

"And honestly, you may have just ensured someone else's complete _misery_," he continued, something catching in his throat as Malik's face flashed through his mind.

Akefia was silent for a moment, as if musing over Ryou's grim words, before someone's obviously annoyed voice came from the background. "Have some bleeping _patience_, you stick-in-the-mud," Akefia snapped back agitatedly, and dealt such a swift lash of foul Arabic at the said offender that Ryou visibly cringed at its vehemence.

"Akefia," Ryou reminded his brother of his presence, and he received a snort of blatant contempt in response. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy as can be," was the falsely cheery reply before the background person spoke again, and Akefia proceeded to let loose a string of filthy obscenities that would have made a weathered sailor cry. Ryou, who was well broken in to his brother's colorful vocabulary, simply held the phone away from his ear until the indecent barking had calmed down once more. "Can't say the same for this _prude,_" the older Ahmar said, his tone purposefully tauntingly.

_"Akefia!"_

There was a thunk and a muffled Arabic curse, the sounds of a rather heated scuffle, and then the line went eerily dead. Ryou placed the landline back with a tired groan and practically collapsed onto his rear end, drawing his warm duvet around him as he coughed harshly. "Pharaoh might actually kill him this time," he breathed out with a blithe smile, and closed his tired eyes with a heave of his rasping chest.

* * *

Malik had steadily observed all Bakura cared to show him, from the strangely large children's trading cards department to the advanced technology level of the building, and had also made care to observe the executive's various mannerisms as they had toured. Now, Malik was back in the executive's office, with his mind whirring with the speed of his never-ending thought process.

Bakura didn't once slouch or sag, but always had the posture of a proud regal, and his crimson eyes never seemed to miss a single detail. He would approach any person if they looked even slightly disheveled or distracted, with that surficial smile that promised a bitter end for all who failed to comply to his whims, and leave them looking scared out of their wits.

The Egyptian had grudgingly conceded to himself that one of his biggest obstacles was indeed his boss, and was admittedly baffled on how to steer his tiny rowboat of pure will-power around such an enormous and merciless metal battleship as the executive.

"As you see Malik, Kaiba and I run a very large company," Bakura casually broke into his reverie, "that extends its reach far beyond this building. In fact, most other successful businesses don't tend to be much of a threat."

Malik decided that this would be a good time to push for a bit of background information. "What about Mr. Pegasus and his company? Doesn't he, at present, own a good deal of the city's semi-major businesses?"

Bakura threw back his head and cackled. "I suppose. That is, if you consider the management of South Domino's utter corruption as an _actual_ business. Then I suppose he's the bloody _king_ of the loan sharks."

The tan teen narrowed his eyes, but pressed onwards. "So you see him as no threat to your Northern Domino business affairs?"

"If he was a threat, I would gladly snuff him out," was the off-hand reply as the executive fed a mysterious object to Diabound with a pleased whisper in the cobra's ear slit. "Simple as that."

"You're merciless." Malik said with painful plainness.

"Au contraire, my Egyptian, I'm absolutely _brilliant_," Bakura countered with a jack-o-lantern grin. "Why crush a thousand locusts when you can easily crush their king?"

The teen was silent, seeing the cruelly simple logic in the blatantly malicious statement, and the executive waved a dismissive hand as the cobra bared its nastily sharp fangs at Malik. "And on_ that_ pleasant note, I have some more papers just _begging_ to be sorted."

Malik grimaced at the white-haired devil, already feeling quite sick of this sorting routine, and vaguely wondering when he would be able to put his skills to better uses.

"Yes, Lord Bakura."

* * *

"Mokuba."

Joey and the child in question looked up from their umpteenth game of chess, to see the older Kaiba brother standing in the doorway as stiff as a pole. "Seto." Mokuba said, his coal-like eyes impassive, as the blonde's body became just a tad more rigid. "It is good to see you, brother."

"Likewise, Mokuba. You can leave now, Yugi." Kaiba said offhandedly with a brusque nod at the short teen, and Yugi wisely interpreted this as Kaiba's cold idea of thanks.

"Have a great day, Kaiba. See ya, Joey," Yugi said with his signature warm and amiable smile aimed at the three of them, and left the room with a soft thump of the door. As the short teen continued on his way, blissful ignorant of the mounting tension in the office he had left behind, Joey spoke up.

"Well, has the big time, hot shot businessman come to roost?" He asked with a spiteful sneer quite evident in his voice as his mouth curved up into a mocking grin.

"Indeed," Kaiba said dryly, his gaze completely and utterly icy. "Let's cut the pleasantries, mutt. I have places to be, and so does Mokuba." Kaiba looked at his little brother quite pointedly as he said this.

The boy in question stared at Joey for a log moment before getting up and robotically gliding to his his brother's side. "Good bye, Mr. Wheeler," Mokuba said, glancing back with that dark gaze of his, and a flicker of warmth passed through his eyes. "I enjoyed our one-sided game of chess."

Joey blinked a bit at the child's rigid formality, but eventually grinned back in reply. "See you again, kiddo."

Kaiba gently ushered Mokuba out of the room before turning to Joey with his usual frigidness. "It appears you actually _haven't_ botched up your opportunities as Mokuba's new part-time caretaker. I'll admit, I'm vaguely impressed, Wheeler."

The blond grimaced. "Good to know I can still surprise ya, moneybags," he replied tartly. "I'm catching a ride home, so I'd like to leave his majesty's throne room...if he so wills it."

"I get the feeling you don't care whether I will it or not," Kaiba replied, arching a perfect brow.

"Bingo, Richie Rich," Joey said without humor in his returning smile, and roughly shrugged past the elegantly tall man. "Have a lovely day in da Northern neighborhood, Kaiba."

"I can't say I can sincerely wish you the same," was the ice-cold reply, "seeing as you'll probably stop to pick up more face decorations."

It took a moment for the brunette's clipped words to sink in.

Joey's naturally soft brown eyes seemed to freeze over in an instant, and he whipped around with a viciously uncharacteristic scowl on his face. "Mind your own business, moneybags," he said, with a warning note in his tone

"You _are_ my employee. Your general welfare _is_ my concern."

Joey snorted. "Don't need damaged goods, huh?"

"I don't_ need_ my employees participating in Domino's latest criminal activity."

The blond blinked rather owlishly before giving a dry laugh. "I don't gang, cold cash. I'm just a mangy mutt beggin' for the scraps of da rich."

"Your terrible record implies otherwise, Wheeler."

The blond's tightly clenched fist hit the doorway with a resounding crack, slightly starling Kaiba. "Think whatever ya want. I don't have enough of my life left to waste on you."

And with that scathing comment, the blond exited, leaving the super-genius executive with an annoyingly nagging sense of déjà-vu.

* * *

Yugi, meanwhile, was briskly trekking home alone,with a lonely aura that seemed to becompletely encompassing him. He looked squarely at the pavement in front of him as the soft wind teased his blond bangs into his eyes, and exhaled softly as the setting sun shone on his short form.

_I hope Joey doesn't try to bite Kaiba's head off, _Yugi thought absently to himself, with a slightly worried smile teasing the corners of his lips. _He did tend to do that a lot in middle school._

The teen abruptly bit his lip, feeling a sudden and sharp sense of longing for those days. Back when Joey still attended the same school as him and didn't look so tired and hurt under his naturally peppy grin. Back when Atem still lived in the peaceful Moutou household.

Back when he and Yami actually got along.

Yugi shook his star head, as if to dislodge his swirling negative thoughts. _Live in the present, Yugi_, he told himself firmly. _It's what you have left._

A loud and purposeful car honk snapped him out of his reverie, and he stopped and turned to see an all-too-familiar dark car tailing him. Yugi locked eyes with the ruby gaze of the driver, a feeling of dread settling its uncomfortable way into his intestines.

_Just my luck._

"Yugi," Yami called out, and the teen in question abruptly spun on his leather heel and continued walking away, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "Where do you think you're going?"

He said nothing as Yami persistantly drove alongside him. "Yugi, answer me."

The silence that the older Moutou received in reply was frustratingly deafening.

"Partner-"

"Home." Was the clipped and abrupt answer.

Yami frowned at his younger brother's tone. "I'm going that way."

"What a _joyous_ occasion."

His frown deepened. "You're angry at me again."

A thick and awkward silence settled upon the two brothers once more, and Yami's gaze quickly intensified into his rather dangerous glare as he attempted to regain Yugi's attention.

"Yugi."

Silence.

"_Yugi_."

The teen whipped around to glare right back at his older brother. "What do you want from me?" He demanded, sounding extremely exasperated. "Don't you have places to be? A pretty _girlfriend_ to shower in your _undying_ affection?" Yugi nearly spat out this last part.

Yami's frown turned into a vicious scowl. "Get in the car."

"I said that I'm going ho-"

"_Now_."

Yugi's mouth clamped shut with an audible snap, and he furtively avoided Yami's angry gaze as he went around to the passenger's door. He clambered into the car silently and pointedly angled his small body towards the passenger window, his clear gaze blank and void of any emotion. Yami wordlessly glanced at him, his red gaze scrutinizing his brother's cold body language for any signs of abuse.

That foreign quiet crept upon them again, and the older Moutou brother felt as if there was a great gulf between them instead of a simple CD holder. He couldn't fathom why Yugi now abhorred the thought of his very presence, and he felt hot anger and frustration swirling inside of him as he gripped the leather steering wheel with deathly tightness.

Yugi, what did I do?" He demanded acidly, letting his gaze dart towards Yugi for a moment. "Can you at least tell me that?"

The teen looked at him blandly. "You wouldn't want to hear it."

"The hell I wouldn't."

Yugi fell silent again, and Yami opted to glare out the front window for the next few minutes. "...I don't want this, Yugi," he finally said forlornly, his posture uncharacteristically defeated, and Yugi didn't look at him. Instead, he snorted loudly as a wry grimace briefly crossed his expressionless face.

"I wouldn't have guessed."

* * *

"I'm home."

Malik slammed the door shut behind his silhouetted form and didn't wait for a reply as his stomach gave a distinctly dissatisfied rumble. He took off his worn shoes and he padded into the kitchen with hope to grab something that would sooth his internal grumblings. He stopped dead in his tracks as he met his sister's dark eyes.

"Malik."

Ishizu was sitting cross-legged in one of the dingy dining room chairs, with a white and slightly chipped teacup in her elegant hands, and her face was completely impassive as always. However, her dark gaze seemed rather troubled, and her eyes occasionally darted from left to right, as if searching for a phantom over her shoulder.

A coil of unease tightened around Malik's stomach as he observed this. "Isis." He replied, and it was more a demanding question than a greeting. The teen knew for a fact that Ishizu never touched tea unless she was _incredibly_ sleep-deprived.

Or at her wits' end.

She exhaled very slowly as she closed her eyes, and the slightest of tremors went through her slender hands. "We're broke."

Malik blinked rapidly, as if he had just been abruptly blindsided. "I know that," he snapped. "I've been broke my entire life, Isis, in case you haven't _noticed_."

Ishizu seemed completely unfazed by his sharp tongue. "Mr. Pegasus had raised our debt to double what we originally owed him, and he still wants us to pay him by this Monday."

A thousand words instantaneously raced through Malik's mind, but he couldn't seem to find his snarky voice as his older sister continued in an impossibly strong voice.

"I want you...to start gathering up your things."

Malik felt as if his rage would manifest as a huge wave of boiling hot blood and sweep everything in its deadly path away. "That bastard..." he hissed vehemently under his breath. "What does kicking us out do for him...?"

Ishizu's expression was quite wry, despite the steep magnitude of their serious situation. "Nothing. It's a simple bicep flex for him. A safe exercise to satisfy his megalomania."

_He's just as bad as Bakura_, Malik said cynically to himself as he attempted to recollect his cracking composure. "Where will we go?" He asked her, his brow furrowing as he thought of the eldest Ishtar. "And does Odion know?"

"Rishid knows." Was the simple reply, as the ever-calm Egyptian woman took a long and gracious sip of her steaming hot tea, "And I, quite frankly, don't have a clue."

* * *

_A/N: *kowtow*_

**_Merry Christmas!_**

_See, I didn't abandon this story. There's too much to explain! *shot*_

_I'm so sorry. I was suffering from a double-whopping of life's general business and lack of writer's creativity. Even then, this is a transition chapter. Again. It's still important though, so I hope you paid attention. And I cannot wait for the next chapter, because new characters are popping up. *victory fist-pump*_

_Soul, my beta, is gone, so that didn't help the process of spitting out this chapter. She's probably the best beta I've ever found, and her absence is dearly missed._

_Again, the more reviews, the happier I am. Share this fiction with your Yu-Gi-Oh friends if you like it! Leave critical and thoughtfully insightive reviews! Trust me, I really appreciate them, a lot more than one-liner begging reviews. Not that those aren't fine. And if I made grammatical errors, please correct me. I didn't have my beta this chapter, and I don't know if she's ever coming back..._

_Special thanks be to **DiseaseAddict**, **CatSrii**, **FireMokey**, **Serpent Tailed Angel**, **impurepet**, **Neko**, **FelineFoxFan**, **Crystia**, and **One percent** for reviewing last chapter. Keep on motivating me, my beloved reviewers! I DID THIS FOR YOU!_

_Hope you enjoyed this Christmas present! 8D_

_Harvest Dragon_


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